THE 

ABANDONED 
FARMER 


SYDNEYH-PRESTON] 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 


The 
Abandoned  Farmer 

By  Sydney  H.  Preston 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
New  York   1901 


Pa 


Copyright,  1901,  by 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons 


All  rights  reserved 


CONTENTS 

Paft 

7.   Before  the  Plunge / 

77.   Peter  Waydean  is  Found  Want 
ing    22 

777.  An  Upheaval 45 

IV.  The  Education  of  Griggs  ...  60 

V.  Paul  and  the  Chickens  .  ...  89 

VI.  A  Cow  and  a  Calf 104 

Vll.  The  Advent  of  William  Weddtr  .  725 

K777.  Marion  Rises  to  the  Occasion  .  .146 

IX.  Aunt  Sophy's  Generosity  .  .  .  168 

X.  Uncle  Benny  Creates  a  Diversion  18} 

XI.  The  Wedding- Day 795 

XII.  The  Exit  of  William  Wedder  .  .  224 

XIII.  The  Fairy  Well 236 

XIV.  A  Pastoral  Call 254 

XV.  The  Harvest 277 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 


BEFORE  THE  PLUNGE 

"  \/OU  need  to  turn  the  little  chap  loose 
1  in  the  country,"  was  the  doctor's 
verdict,  given  in  a  low  tone  that  didn't — 
thank  Heaven ! — attract  Paul's  attention, 
though  if  the  child  hadn't  been  absorbed 
for  the  moment  in  driving  a  brood  of  imag 
inary  chickens  into  an  imaginary  coop 
under  a  real  parlor  table  this  indiscreet  ref 
erence  would  have  caused  a  scene.  The 
doctor  had  been  cautioned  not  to  do  or  say 
anything  that  would  arouse  suspicion  in  the 
mind  of  our  offspring  as  to  the  real  nature 
of  his  visit,  so  he  should  have  known  better, 
but  of  course  he  couldn't  know  what  a 
dread  Paul  had  of  sometime  having  to  go 
somewhere  without  his  parents. 

Marion  sank  weakly  into  a  chair,  then  sat 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

up  very  straight  and  braced  herself  for  what 
was  coming ;  I  made  a  frantic  pantomimic 
appeal  to  the  doctor  for  temporary  silence, 
then  I  grabbed  Paul  by  the  arm,  pointing 
out  the  fiction  that  the  chickens  had  escaped 
around  the  end  of  the  table  into  the  hall. 
When  he  had  darted  out  in  pursuit  I  shut 
the  door,  turning  in  time  to  hear  Marion  say 
with  a  piteous  break  in  her  voice :  "  Doc 
tor,  tell  us  the  worst — is  it  his  lungs  ?  " 

His  tone,  to  our  over-anxious  ears,  had 
suggested  a  fear  that  he  was  about  to  break 
the  news  that  our  precious  boy  was  doomed 
to  an  early  grave,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  see 
him  not  only  smile,  but  look  as  if  he  would 
enjoy  a  hearty  laugh.  "  Don't  be  alarmed, 
Mrs.  Carton,"  he  said  cheerily.  "  He's  a 
delicate  little  fellow,  but  spry  as  a  cricket 
and  quite  sound.  Send  him  to  the  country 
for  six  months, — and — ha  ha ! — don't  cod 
dle  him  so  much." 

Send  our  little  Paul  to  the  country !  Even 
in  her  half-allayed  anxiety  Marion  smiled  at 
the  idea.  Paul,  who  had  never  been  away 
from  her  tender  care  for  one  hour,  who  had 
howled  with  dismay  when  he  gathered  from 


Before  the  Plunge 

our  unguarded  conversation  that  when  little 
boys  went  to  school  they  didn't  take  their 
parents  too!  Now  Paul,  up  to  this  time, 
fortunately  for  our  peace  of  mind,  had  been 
spared  the  ordinary  illnesses  and  accidents 
of  childhood ;  indeed,  so  carefully  had  he 
been  guarded,  that  at  the  age  of  six  he  had 
never  tasted  unboiled  water,  unsterilized 
milk  or  unhygienic  bread,  and  although  he 
had  learned  to  walk  upstairs  by  himself,  had 
never  descended  alone  except  when  an  anx 
ious  parent  stood  breathlessly  at  the  foot  of 
the  stairs  ready  to  break  a  possible  fall.  An 
ordinary  child  might  have  rebelled  or  evaded 
our  watchfulness,  but  Paul  was  not  an  ordi 
nary  child,  and  he  was  preternaturally  anx 
ious  to  avoid  danger  and  keep  us  up  to  the 
mark.  His  active  little  mind  ferreted  out 
supposititious  disasters  with  alarming  real 
ism  until  our  nerves  were  unstrung  by  the 
constant  effort  to  guard  against  the  possible 
calamities  that  he  suggested. 

Send  Pa-til  to  the  country?     Send  him — 

to  the  country!     A  likely  thing,  indeed! — 

and  leave  us  to  be  tortured  by  mental  visions 

of  his  dear  little  incapable  feet  projecting 

3 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

out  of  a  water  barrel  or  being  mowed  off  by 
an  overgrown  lawn-mower,  his  helpless 
form  impaled  upon  the  horns  of  a  bull  or 
dangling  from  the  mouth  of  a  vicious  horse. 
That  evening,  after  Paul  was  safely 
asleep,  we  talked  the  whole  matter  over.  We 
had  previously  toyed  with  nebulous  schemes 
of  living  in  the  country,  but  the  doctor's 
opinion  transformed  what  had  seemed  an 
impracticable  but  entrancingly  delightful 
castle-in-the-air  to  a  definite  consideration 
of  how  we  could  make  it  an  actuality.  As 
Marion  said,  it  was  our  plain  duty  to  do 
what  was  best  for  Paul,  even  if  we  had  to 
sacrifice  a  few  extraneous  luxuries  in  carry 
ing  it  out,  and  when  she  used  the  word  duty 
I  knew  that,  come  what  would,  we  were  go 
ing  to  live  in  the  country.  Duty  is  Marion's 
strong  point ;  mine  also,  in  a  sort  of  second 
hand  way,  for  I  have  learned  to  obey  the  dic 
tates  of  her  conscience  with  an  amazing 
alacrity.  With  her,  the  principle  involved  in 
the  most  trivial  act  is  a  matter  of  vital  im 
portance,  while  I  am  inclined  to  act  first,  and 
from  that  action  deduce  a  principle  to  justify 
the  course  I  have  taken.  Her  mind  is  in- 
4 


Before  the  Plunge 

tensely  analytical,  and  she  believes  rigidly 
what  she  ought  to  believe ;  I  am,  perhaps,  a 
trifle  more  imaginative,  more  easily  swayed 
by  passing  enthusiasms,  more  given  to  be 
lieving  what  I  want  to  believe,  less  inclined 
to  see  a  clear-cut  difference  between  black 
and  white. 

It  is  not  strange,  therefore,  that  our  opin 
ions  often  differ,  but  in  this  case  we  were 
of  one  mind  from  the  first,  the  only  difficulty 
that  faced  us  being  the  question  of  ways  and 
means,  and  on  this  point  Marion  was, 
strange  to  say,  more  optimistic  than  I. 

"  I  have  a  feeling,  a  presentiment,"  she 
said,  in  a  tone  of  fervent  conviction,  "  that  if 
we  make  up  our  minds  hard  enough  it  will 
become  possible.  We've  been  talking  about 
this  for  years,  and  I  never  felt  until  this 
moment  that  it  was  really  going  to  be  true." 

For  a  moment  her  calm  certainty  in 
fluenced  my  hopes,  then  I  shook  my  head 
doubtfully.  "  You  forget,"  I  rejoined, 
"  that  there's  no  other  opening  in  sight,  and 
as  long  as  I'm  doing  '  Music  and  Drama ' 
for  the  Observer  I  must  stay  in  the  city.  If 
I  had  regular  hours,  if  I  were  a  bank  clerk, 
5 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

for  instance,  we  might  live  in  the  suburbs, 
but " 

"  We've  been  over  all  that  hundreds  of 
times,"  she  interrupted,  "  and  you  know  that 
if  you  had  been  a  bank  clerk  I  wouldn't  have 
married  you.  You're  not  going  to  give  up 
journalism,  but  I'm  sure  something  will 
happen  to  let  us  live  where  we  want  to  live. 
And  as  for  the  suburbs,  it  seems  to  me  it 
would  be  better  to  get  a  real  farm  in  the  real 
country.  If  we  could  find  a  good  comfort 
able  farm-house  near  the  railroad  with 
plenty  of  land  around  it,  I  don't  believe  it 
would  cost  us  any  more  than  one  of  those 
flimsy  cottages  with  a  garden  plot  attached 
that  we  looked  at  last  year." 

I  found,  as  we  talked  the  matter  over,  that 
Marion's  imagination  had  been  fired  by  the 
idea  of  some  quaint  old-fashioned  homestead 
with  gabled  roof,  open  fireplaces  and  latticed 
windows,  surrounded  by  ancient  shade-trees 
and  a  straggling  apple-orchard.  All  these 
accessories  I  could  appreciate,  and,  in  com 
parison,  an  ordinary  suburban  cottage,  one 
of  many  others  exactly  alike,  began  to  seem 
quite  out  of  the  question.  There  were  de- 
6 


lightful  possibilities  about  buying  a  real 
farm,  not  to  mention  the  inviting  prospect 
of  running  it  afterward. 

"  That's  a  capital  idea !  "  I  exclaimed,  in 
eager  approval.  "  I  could  raise  a  couple  oi 
hundred  dollars  to  make  the  first  payment, 
then  we  could  give  a  mortgage  for  the  bal 
ance  and  pay  it  off  with  the  proceeds  of  the 
first  year's  crop.  Then  we  could  soon  make 
enough  money  to " 

I  stopped  short,  for  I  became  aware  that 
my  wife  was  regarding  me  with  a  smile  of 
loving  toleration.  "  There  you  are  again, 
Henry,"  she  said,  with  a  merry  laugh. 
"  What  a  lot  of  money  we'd  save  if  I  let  you 
carry  out  a  few  of  your  wild  schemes ! 
We're  not  going  to  raise  one  dollar  to  make 
a  first  payment ;  we're  not  going  to  give  a 
mortgage,  so  you'll  not  be  able  to  pay  it  off 
with  the  first  year's  crop." 

"  But  it  was  your  proposal,"  I  protested, 
"  you  said " 

"  I  didn't  say  we  might  buy  a  farm,  but  I 

think  we  might  be  able  to  rent  one  for  less 

than  we  pay  for  this  house,  and  I'm  sure  we 

can  live  more  cheaply  in  the  country  than 

7 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

in  the  city,  if  we  make  up  our  minds  not  to 
spend  money  needlessly." 

It  didn't  seem  to  me  that  a  rented  farm 
without  a  mortgage  could  be  as  attractive  as 
the  one  I  had  imagined,  but  I  reluctantly  ad 
mitted  that  Marion's  plan  might  be  more 
economical  than  mine.  If  I  hadn't  done  so 
she  certainly  would  have  reminded  me  of 
some  of  my  errors  of  judgment. 

"  And  now,"  she  continued,  "  the  next 
thing  to  consider  is  how  much  money  we 
can  afford  not  to  spend  on  the  farm." 

At  that  moment  I  had  mentally  unloaded 
a  car  of  farm  implements,  resplendent  in 
green  and  red  paint,  with  the  same  feeling  of 
delightful  excitement  that  accompanies  the 
unpacking  of  a  Noah's  ark.  In  fact,  I  had 
them  arranged  on  the  station  platform  and 
was  directing  my  hired  men  how  to  load  the 
wagons.  "  Can  afford  not  to  spend,"  I  re 
peated  abstractedly. 

There  was  silence.  When  I  awoke  from 
my  reverie  I  discovered  that  my  wife  was 
gazing  at  me  with  a  curious  expression,  her 
lips  tightly  compressed.  I  stood  to  atten 
tion  at  once. 

8 


Before  the  Plunge 

"Yes,  Marion,"  I  went  on  briskly.  "  I 
was  just  thinking  about  that.  I  was  just  cal 
culating  how  many  implements  we  could 
buy." 

"  Indeed  ?  And  have  you  decided  wheth 
er  you  would  rather  go  in  for  horse-raising 
or  thoroughbred  cattle  ?  " 

"  No,  I  haven't  got  that  far ;  but  I  think 
a  herd  of  Jerseys  would  do  to  start  with, 
then— 

"  Then  you  are  like  other  men !  I  wonder 
if  any  city  man  ever  farmed  without  losing 
his  common-sense.  Can't  you  see,  Henry, 
that  we'd  be  hopelessly  in  debt  if  we  started 
in  that  way  ?  Why,  even  if  we  were  wealthy 
the  money  would  soon  be  all  gone  at  that 
rate  of  spending.  How  many  otherwise 
level-headed  men  do  you  know  who  have 
squandered  fortunes  in  farming  for  pleas 
ure?" 

"  Well,  there's  Judge  Davis,  and  old 
Hamilton,  and — oh,  lots  of  them — but,  you 
see,  they  didn't  know  how  to  manage,  and  I 
would  profit  by  their  mistakes.  I  wouldn't 
borrow  five  hundred  dollars,  for  instance, 
to  invest  in  Jerseys,  without  seeing  my  way 
9 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

clear  to  double  the  money  in  a  year  or  two 
by  selling  gilt-edged  butter." 

"  Now  listen,  Henry,"  said  my  wife,  with 
the  indulgent  yet  unrelenting  smile  of  a 
mother  who  pushes  a  fragile  vase  beyond  the 
reach  of  her  infant's  grasp  ;  "  you're  not  go 
ing  to  borrow  one  dollar ;  you're  not  going 
to  have  a  herd  of  Jerseys ;  you're  not  going 
to  buy  reapers  and  threshing  machines, 
horses  and  wagons  and  windmills.  How 
much  would  a  spade,  a  rake,  and  a  hoe 
cost?" 

I  gasped.  "  A  spade — a  rake! "  I  be 
gan  incredulously,  then  I  smiled  a  smile  of 
feeble  intelligence  to  conceal  the  fact  that  I 
failed  to  see  the  point :  I  know  what  it  feels 
like  to  perpetrate  a  pointless  joke. 

"  And  a  hoe,"  continued  Marion,  earnest 
ly.  "  How  much  would  they  cost?" 

"  About  two  dollars,"  I  replied,  in  vague 
wonderment. 

"  Then  that  settles  it !  You  may  spend 
two  dollars  in  implements,  but  not  another 
cent.  And  as  for  drains " 

"  Perhaps  you  would  allow  three  for 
them,"  I  interjected,  with  a  derisive  laugh. 
10 


Before  the  Plunge 

"  Judge  Davis  spent  three  thousand  in  un- 
derdraining  his  farm." 

"  Then  we'll  do  without  underdrains.  Do 
you  begin  to  see  now  what  I  mean  by  de 
ciding  how  much  money  we  can  afford  not 
to  epend." 

"  I  believe  I  do,"  I  answered,  amused  yet 
fascinated  by  her  idea.  "  It  will  total  a  large 
amount  if  you  keep  on,  but  I  don't  see  how 
a  farm  can  be  made  to  pay  without  invest 
ing  money  in  it.  Why,  you've  got  to  put 
money  into  anything,  even  into  a  gold  mine, 
before  you  can  get  returns." 

It  was  an  unfortunate  illustration,  as  I 
learned  from  Marion's  pitying  look.  I 
winced;  I  knew  what  was  coming. 
"  Henry,"  she  said,  and  in  her  face  I  saw 
that  she  was  responding  to  the  call  of  duty, 
"  I  don't  grudge  one  dollar  of  that  money 
you  put  into  the  Emperor  shares  last  year, 
even  if  the  lesson  is  wasted  on  you,  as  it 
seems  to  be ;  for  that  experience  made  me 
determine  that  I  would  never  trust  your 
judgment  about  investments  again  when  my 
common-sense  tells  me  you  are  wrong. 
Aunt  Sophy  says  that  all  men  who  haven't 
ii 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

been  brought  up  on  a  farm  are  attacked  by 
an  insane  belief,  at  some  period  of  their  lives, 
that  they  can  make  money  by  farming.  She 
says  Uncle  Philip  had  made  a  hundred 
thousand  dollars  in  the  grocery  business 
when  he  retired  and  bought  a  farm.  She 
implored  him  not  to  do  it,  but  he  persisted, 
saying  there  was  heaps  of  money  in  farm 
ing  if  properly  managed,  and  he  could  run 
a  farm  on  business  principles  and  make  it 
pay.  But  when  he  died  she  found  he  had 
left  only  forty  thousand  dollars  for  her  to 
live  on,  and  she  is  convinced  that  if  he 
hadn't  been  taken  away  so  suddenly  she 
would  have  been  altogether  penniless.  Poor 
Aunt  Sophy!  She  weeps  more  over  that 
money  than  over  Uncle  Philip,  and  the 
worst  of  it  is  that  some  semi-religious  novel 
she  has  read  has  unsettled  her  old-fashioned 
ideas  about  heaven  so  that  she  is  afraid  that 
when  her  turn  comes  she'll  find  him  at  it 
again.  The  thought  has  hardened  her  so 
that  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  she  married 
old  Mr.  Fairman  and  renounced  Uncle 
Philip." 

I  had  been  about  to  say  that  I  felt  my- 

12 


Before  the  Plunge 

self  to  be  peculiarly  fitted  to  illustrate  pay 
ing  methods  of  farming,  but  I  desisted.  I 
had  been  inclined  to  resent  Marion's  taunt 
about  the  unlucky  mining  venture,  but  the 
serious  recital  of  the  woes  of  her  uncle  and 
aunt  moved  me  to  laughter.  I  jocularly  de 
clared  I  would  go  around  to  the  bank  to  see 
if  the  money  we  had  saved  by  not  buying  a 
farm  had  been  placed  to  my  credit,  but  her 
anxiety  that  I  should  understand  her  theory 
checked  my  innocent  levity. 

"  You  wouldn't  make  light  of  this  matter," 
she  said,  reproachfully,  "  if  you  understood 
its  importance.  Now  listen :  what  I  mean 
is,  that  instead  of  calculating  how  much 
money  we  might  be  able  to  spend  on  the 
farm  we  should  try  to  see  how  much  we  can 
do  without  spending.  I  am  sure  that  is  the 
right  way  to  avoid  making  a  farm  not  pay. 
For  example,  if  you  think  you  want  to  buy 
an  electric  potato-digger  you  ought  to  save 

up  the  money  and  then " 

"  And  then  you'll  decide  that  I  can  afford 
not  to  buy  it !  " 

"  Probably — but  don't  you  see  the  mon 
ey   would   then   be   clear   profit,   and   you 
13 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

would  have  it  instead  of  a  useless  ma 
chine." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  useless — it  would  dig  po 
tatoes." 

"  It  might  dig  potatoes,  but  Aunt  Sophy 
says  you  can't  depend  on  any  of  these  con 
trivances,  so  the  chances  are  that  it  would 
be  useless ;  besides,  you  said  the  Emperor 
shares  would  dig  gold,  and  they  swal 
lowed " 

The  thought  of  mining  shares  is  distaste 
ful  to  me;  to  have  them  dragged  into  the 
conversation  is  distracting ;  to  look  forward 
to  having  every  budding  plan  nipped  by  the 
chilling  reminders  of  bygone  mistakes  that 
my  temperament  would  allow  me  to  forget 
was  not  to  be  endured.  "  Marion,"  I  inter 
rupted,  hastily,  "  it's  a  capital  plan !  I'll 
agree  to  try  it  if  we  ever  have  a  farm,  if 
you'll  promise  never  to  do  or  say  anything 
to  remind  me  of  that  stroke  of  bad  luck." 

"Don't  you  mean  bad  management?" 
she  asked,  gayly.  "  You  have  a  dreadfully 
lax  memory  about  these  things,  and  I  know 
you  would  have  forgotten  the  Emperor 
shares  long  ago  if  I  hadn't  reminded  you. 


Before  the  Plunge 

However,  you  know  it's  for  your  own  good 
and " 

"  It  isn't,"  I  protested,  with  vehemence. 
"  It  dulls  my  sensibilities  and  hardens  my 
heart." 

Marion  shook  her  head  dubiously,  but 
she  promised. 

I  do  not  believe  in  my  own  presentiments, 
for  I  never  have  any,  unless  the  ever-present 
optimistic  belief  that  everything  I  undertake 
is  going  to  turn  out  well  is  a  presentiment, 
but  I  have  learned  by  experience  to  place 
a  certain  amount  of  dependence  upon  Mar 
ion's.  Therefore,  for  a  few  days  after  our 
conversation  I  confidently  expected  some 
thing  to  turn  up,  and  every  day  when  I  re 
turned  home  from  the  office  I  saw  by  her  in 
quiring  expectant  glance  that  she  was  look 
ing  for  the  fulfilment  of  her  prediction.  As 
time  passed,  however,  I  began  to  think  she 
had  been  mistaken,  though  I  did  not  say  so, 
for  I  know  how  annoying  it  is  to  have 
one's  mistakes  pointed  out  when  one  is 
most  keenly  conscious  of  them.  Besides,  to 
refrain  made  me  feel  magnanimous,  and  that 
feeling,  perhaps,  caused  a  shade  of  pitying 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

magnanimity  to  creep  into  my  tone  when  we 
discussed  the  project;  so  Marion,  who  is  in 
tensely  susceptible  to  inflections,  was  per 
fectly  well  aware  that  I  was  practising  one 
of  the  higher  virtues,  as  well  as  showing  a 
delicate  consideration  for  her  feelings  that 
she  might  well  copy  in  regard  to  mine.  Of 
course,  we  could  do  nothing  but  make  plans 
during  the  winter;  but  as  spring  ap 
proached,  without  any  prospect  of  a  change 
that  would  give  me  regular  hours  of  work, 
it  seemed  as  if  we  should  have  to  give  up, 
for  a  time,  the  prospect  of  moving  to  the 
country. 

It  was  one  morning  early  in  March  that 
the  unexpected  did  happen.  I  was  at  my 
desk  reading  a  batch  of  indignant  letters 
taking  me  to  task  for  an  opinion  I  had  ex 
pressed  in  an  article  on  musical  culture 
when  a  summons  arrived  from  the  editor-in- 
chief.  Up  to  that  moment  I  had  been 
amused  by  the  denials  of  my  assertion  that 
the  performance  of  a  Bach  fugue  on  the 
piano  as  part  of  a  concert  programme 
should  be  condemned  as  provocative  of 
snobbish  pretence;  that  the  giving  out  of 
16 


Before  the  Plunge 

the  theme  by  the  performer  had  become  the 
signal  for  the  audience  to  assume  an  air  of 
intense  and  exalted  intellectual  enjoyment, 
though  not  one  person  in  a  hundred  could 
appreciate  the  logical  development  of  such  a 
composition  or  distinguish  anything  but  a 
confused  intermingling  of  the  parts  ;  but  the 
summons  from  the  editor  made  me  regard 
the  matter  more  seriously.  I  hurriedly 
looked  over  the  article  to  see  if  I  had  laid 
myself  open  to  reproof  for  indiscretion. 
Yes,  I  had !  At  the  very  end  the  statement 
glared  at  me  that  musicians  listened  to  a 
fugue  with  the  strained  intentness  of  jug 
glers  watching  a  fellow-performer  keeping 
three  balls  in  the  air ;  I  had  committed  the 
fatal  oversight  of  not  saying  some  musi 
cians.  Probably  an  irate  deputation  repre 
senting  the  profession  so  notoriously  sensi 
tive  to  truthful  criticism  had  waited  upon 
the  editor  to  demand  a  public  retraction  of 
the  libel. 

"  Sit  down,  Carton,"  said  the  editor,  as  I 
entered.    "  You've  been  doing  '  Music  and 
Drama '  for  two  years  now,"  he  said  mus 
ingly,  laying  down  his  pen,  "  and  I  don't 
17 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

think  I  have  expressed  my  opinion  of  your 
work  to  you  personally." 

I  shook  my  head  mutely,  afraid  of  what 
was  coming  next. 

"  That,  however,  doesn't  indicate  any 
want  of  appreciation  on  my  part.  You  have 
changed  the  former  commonplace  rut  of 
criticism  to  something  that  people  read  with 
interest,  and  if  they  laugh  and  swear  alter 
nately,  so  much  the  better.  You  have  a 
knack  of  telling  the  truth  with  a  light  touch 
that  is  quite  refreshing.  How  would  you 
like  to  edit  the  agricultural  page  in  the 
weekly  ?  " 

I  gazed  at  him  in  bewilderment ;  ready  to 
laugh  if  he  meant  to  be  jocular,  incredulous 
of  his  serious  intention.  "  The  agricultural 
page !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Rather  sudden,  eh?  Well,  I'll  tell  you 
how  the  matter  stands.  Old  Rollings  is  out 
of  it,  and  I've  got  to  fill  his  place  at  once. 
Now  it  strikes  me  that  farmers  don't  hanker 
after  instruction  in  their  newspaper — they 
want  to  be  entertained,  and  I  think  you 
might  make  the  thing  go.  The  salary  will 
be  higher  and  you  can  take  your  own  time 

for  the  work." 

18 


Before  the  Plunge 

"  But  I  don't  know  much  about  agricult 
ure,"  I  protested. 

"  That  isn't  of  any  consequence.  There 
are  the  exchanges,  the  Farmer's  Cyclopaedia 
and  the  scissors,  and  you'll  learn  not  to 
waste  space  by  advising  farmers  to  plant 
corn  in  hills  three  feet  apart  or  to  feed  potato 
bugs  on  paris  green.  The  main  thing  is  to 
make  the  department  entertaining,  so  let 
yourself  go  and  be  as  funny  as  you  like,  pro 
vided  there's  a  grain  of  horse-sense  at  the 
bottom.  For  instance,  you  might  have  an 
article  on  how  to  make  the  farm  pay,  taking 
as  a  text — um,  let  me  see — ah — you  might 
advocate " 

"The  planting  of  summer  boarders  in 
rows  three  feet  apart  ?  "  I  ventured. 

The  editor  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
laughed.  "  Go  ahead,  Carton,"  he  said 
warmly.  "  You  mightn't  be  able  to  draw  a 
better  looking  pig  in  a  prize  competition 
than  the  rest  of  us,  but  I'd  bank  on  you  mak 
ing  a  pretty  turn  to  his  tail." 

The  die  was  cast,  and  yet,  for  a  few  days 
at  least,  I  felt  as  one  might,  who,  accustomed 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

to  prate  of  the  certain  bliss  of  a  heavenly 
home,  is  suddenly  presented  with  a  pass  to 
the  delectable  land.  A  kaleidoscopic  vision 
dazzled  me  of  a  picturesque  country  house, 
an  orchard,  a  cow,  a  horse,  real  hens  for 
Paul,  our  own  fruit  and  vegetables,  but  be 
yond  I  could  not  see  clearly,  for  I  was  un 
nerved  by  the  sudden  transition  from  the 
fine  arts  to  agriculture.  I  had  gained  a  su 
perficial  insight  into  rural  life  from  the 
stand-point  of  the  summer  boarder,  but 
I  was  well  aware  that  I  didn't  know  as 
much  about  farming  as  about  art  and 
literature.  However,  the  editor's  confidence 
in  my  ability  to  do  the  work  and  Marion's 
glowing  enthusiasm  caused  me  to  keep  my 
misgivings  to  myself.  Indeed,  though  I 
never  boast,  I  find  it  difficult  to  detract  from 
another  person's  estimate  of  my  knowledge 
or  attainments ;  it  seems  less  egotistical  to 
smile  and  look  modest  than  to  enlarge  upon 
one's  own  affairs.  There  was  just  one  thing 
that  caused  me  a  pang.  Marion,  in  pointing 
out  the  advantage  it  would  be  to  me  to  have 
a  free  hand  in  writing,  casually  acknowl 
edged  that  for  a  long  time  she  had  felt  that 
20 


Before  the  Plunge 

criticism  was  not  my  forte  and  that  I  would 
write  better  when  I  had  more  scope  for  my 
imagination.  My  pained  surprise  at  this 
confession  moved  her  to  merriment,  and  she 
laughingly  declared  that  a  \voman's  vanity 
was  all  on  the  surface,  but  a  man's  was  un 
fathomable.  Did  I  answer  back?  No,  I 
didn't,  for  when  I  am  truly  grieved  I  merely 
smile  faintly  with  patient,  loving  forgive 
ness  ;  besides,  I  didn't  know  what  to  say. 
Afterward — for  I  didn't  realize  it  at  the 
time — I  saw  that  I  felt  hurt,  not  because  she 
had  underrated  my  previous  work,  but  be 
cause  she  had  heretofore  simulated  a  proper 
appreciation  of  it.  I  cannot  bear  to  think 
that  my  wife  is  capable  of  stooping  to  any 
kind  of  pretence,  and  I  am  quite  single- 
minded  in  this,  for  I  like  her  to  be  more  per 
fect — infinitely  more  perfect — than  I  am. 
One  would  suppose  this  statement  to  be  un 
questionable.  It  isn't ;  she  immediately 
asks  why,  and  in  the  silence  which  follows 
when  I  am  trying  to  think  she  repeats  the 
query  with  such  challenging  meaningful  em 
phasis  that,  alas  ! — I  cannot  say. 


21 


II 

PETER  WAYDEAN   IS  FOUND  WANTING 


"  IV  T  ^'"  sa^  ^e  Postmistress,  shaking 
1  N  her  head  dubiously,  "  I  don't  think 
you'd  find  a  place  to  suit  within  a  mile  of 
this  station.  You  say  you  want  a  small 
farm  with  a  middling  good  house,  and  the 
only  vacant  place  about  here  has  a  hundred 
acres  and  the  house  ain't  no  better  than  a 
shanty." 

It  was  the  prettiest  bit  of  country  that  we 
had  yet  found  in  our  search  for  our  ideal 
farm,  and  the  answer  of  the  postmistress 
caused  us  keen  disappointment.  Paul's  lit 
tle  hand,  which  had  clutched  mine  with  a 
tense  expectant  grip,  suddenly  relaxed. 
"  Are  we  not  going  to  live  in  the  country  ?  " 
he  asked,  in  a  trembling  voice. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  the  Waydean  homestead," 
the  postmistress  called  out,  as  we  turned 
away  ;  "  but  anyway  I  don't  suppose  "  —  she 
22 


Peter  Waydean  is  Found  Wanting 

looked  at  us  in  turn  with  a  speculative  air, 
smiling  slightly — "  you  could  strike  a  bar 
gain  with  old  Peter." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  demanded  Marion  eagerly. 
"  Is  it  a  nice  place — is  it  near  the  railroad?  " 

"  It's  right  next  the  turn  of  this  road, 
about  half  a  mile  south.  No  one  has  lived 
there  for  twenty  years,  but  he  keeps  the 
house  in  repair,  and  I  guess  it's  cleaner  than 
most  houses  that's  lived  in;  but  old 
Peter —  "  she  stopped  speaking,  went  to 
the  door  and  looked  apprehensively  up  and 
down  the  road.  "  Now  I'll  just  tell  you  the 
plain  truth,"  she  continued  confidentially. 
"  I  know  it  looks  uncharitable  to  talk  to 
strangers  about  your  neighbors,  but  every 
one  round  here  knows  what  old  Peter  is,  and 
if  you're  going  to  have  any  dealings  with 
him  you'll  need  to  keep  your  eyes  wide  open. 
He's  a  crank  and  a  screw,  and  some 
wouldn't  know  they  was  getti-ng  skinned  till 
he'd  got  the  job  done.  And  such  a  man  for 
law !  It  don't  seem  to  matter  much  whether 
he  wins  or  loses,  he  can't  seem  to  get  along 
without  a  suit  going  on.  Now  if  he  hap 
pened  within  earshot  at  this  present  minute 
23 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

he'd  have  the  law  of  me  and  he'd  summons 
you  for  witnesses." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  warning,"  I  inter 
jected,  as  she  paused  for  breath.  "  What  is 
the  house  like?  " 

"  It's  one  of  them  old-fashioned  kind,  with 
tiny  paneSj  in  the  windows  set  cornery, 
and " 

"  Not  diamond  panes,  surely  ? "  cried 
Marion,  with  a  gasp  of  excitement. 

The  postmistress  gazed  at  her  with  an  ex 
pression  of  incredulous  pity.  "  Oh,  no,"  she 
replied ;  "  just  common  glass,  and  I  think 
you'd  find  it  trying  to  have  to  look  out  of  a 
different  pane  with  both  eyes.  Then  them 
big  fireplaces  would  make  it  hard  to  heat, 
but  you  could  board  them  up  and  put  a  base- 
burner  in  the  hall  and  run  the  stove- 


pipe- 

"  Oh,  no!  "  ejaculated  Marion,  in  horror. 
"  That  would  be  dreadful !  Are  they  real 
big  fireplaces,  with  andirons  ?  " 

"  They're  big  enough  in  all  conscience, 
but  I  don't  mind  seeing  any  hand-irons. 
There's  some  rubbishy  old  brass  firedogs 
and  fixings." 

24 


Peter  Waydean  is  Found  Wanting 

Marion's  eyes  sparkled  with  joyful  assur 
ance  and  she  stood  up  with  an  eager  move 
ment  ;  I  motioned  her  to  wait. 

"  Do  you  happen  to  know,"  I  asked  the 
postmistress,  "  what  is  the  rent  of  the 
place?" 

"  Well,  he  asks  different  rents  from  differ 
ent  people,"  she  answered  slowly,  her  feat 
ures  showing  grim  amusement,  "  and  no 
one  has  ever  managed  to  strike  a  bargain 
with  him  yet.  Last  spring  a  man  came 
along  from  the  city  thinking  as  the  place 
was  standing  idle  anyway  he  ought  to  be 
able  to  rent  it  cheap  for  the  summer,  so  he 
hunted  Peter  up  to  show  him  round.  He 
was  one  of  them  big  blustering  sort  of  men 
that  acts  as  if  country  people  wasn't  no  bet 
ter  than  door  mats,  but  Peter  followed  him 
about  as  meek  as  Moses,  carrying  his  over 
coat  and  umbrella  for  him.  They  come  in 
here  about  train  time,  then  the  man  pulls  out 
a  dime  and  says,  '  Here,  my  man,'  says  he, 
'  is  something  for  your  trouble.  It's  a  ram 
shackle  old  house  and  ain't  worth  two  hun 
dred  a  year,  but  I'll  give  you  fifty  for  six 
months.'  Peter  was  looking  at  the  dime  in 
25 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

a  puzzled  sort  of  way,  then  he  smiled  a  cu 
rious  sort  of  smile  and  bit  the  edge  before  he 
put  it  in  his  pocket.  '  You're  most  too  kind, 
sir,'  he  says,  '  for  it  has  been  a  great  enter 
tainment  to  me  to  show  you  about,  and  I 
don't  often  have  the  company  of  a  real  gen 
tleman.  I'm  sorry  the  place  is  beyond  your 
means,  but  the  fact  is  that  I  couldn't  afford 
to  let  you  have  it  less  than  two  hundred  a 
month.  I'm  sorry,'  says  he, '  that  you  had  so 
much  trouble  for  nothing,  but  I'll  just  slip 
this  half-dollar  into  your  pocket  and  you'll 
have  it  to  spend  when  you  get  back  to  the 
city.'  With  that  he  lays  down  the  overcoat 
and  umbrella  and  walks  out.  And  for  all  the 
fine  clothes  and  jewelry  of  that  man,  he  used 
such  profane  language  that  I  had  to  ask  him 
to  stop  or  else  step  outside.  That's  just  like 
old  Peter — he's  so  touchy  there's  no  getting 
on  with  him,  though  he  can  be  as  sweet  as 
pie  if  he  happens  to  take  a  fancy  to  a  person. 

There  was  once  a  man " 

At  this  point  Marion  adroitly  interposed 

with  another  question,  and  in  two  minutes 

we  were  on  the  road  to  Waydean.    Paul  and 

I  straggled  along  behind,  scarcely  able  to 

26 


Peter  Waydean  is  Found  Wanting 

keep  up  with  Marion's  eager  pace,  as  she 
breathlessly  commented  upon  the  delights 
of  living  in  such  a  house  as  the  postmistress 
had  described.  I  became  so  enthusiastic,  in 
sympathy  with  her,  that  by  the  time  we 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  chimneys  through  a 
belt  of  trees  I  was  almost  persuaded  that 
open  fireplaces  and  diamond  panes  were  the 
only  essentials  of  an  ideal  house.  We  had 
been  directed  to  look  for  the  owner  at  the 
diminutive  cottage  he  lived  in  a  half  mile 
farther  along  the  road,  but  with  a  common 
impulse  we  turned  in  at  once  to  the  inviting 
roadway  that  led  up  to  the  old  homestead. 
On  our  right  a  mossy  board  fence  enclosed 
an  old  orchard,  the  gnarled  and  rugged 
trunks  of  the  trees  set  in  a  carpet  of  newly 
sprouted  grass,  the  shadows  of  the  still  leaf 
less  branches  outlined  on  the  knolls  and  hol 
lows  just,  as  Paul  expressed  it,  like  a  real 
colored  picture  out  of  a  real  picture- 
book. 

We  hurried  along  the  driveway  canopied 

by  the  spreading  branches  of  the  pines  that 

grew  on  each  side,  and  rounding  a  curve  we 

came  within  sight  of  a  rambling  frame  house 

27 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

set  on  a  knoll  with  a  neatly  terraced  lawn 
sloping  toward  us. 

From  the  moment  Paul  darted  forward 
with  a  shout  of  delight  and  seated  himself 
on  the  steps  of  a  diminutive  colonial  porch 
we  felt  the  joy  of  possession.  We  stood  off 
and  surveyed  the  roof.  The  shingles  were 
delicately  tinted  in  moss-green  and  a  few 
bricks  were  missing  from  the  upper  courses 
of  the  chimneys,  but  the  glass  in  the  win 
dows  was  unbroken  and  the  house  looked 
exceedingly  habitable  and  home-like. 

The  front  door  was  locked,  so  we  peered 
in  at  the  lower  windows  and  then  went 
round  to  the  rear,  finding  the  kitchen  door 
wide  open.  Marion  entered  first  and  I  saw 
her  run  across  the  room  and  drop  on  her 
knees  in  front  of  a  cavernous  brick  fireplace 
with  a  little  cry  of  delight.  By  the  time  I 
reached  her  she  was  emerging  from  its  sooty 
recesses  with  a  smudged  but  radiant  coun 
tenance,  smiling  exultantly  as  she  swung  a 
rusty  iron  hook  outward. 

"  What's  that  thing?  "  I  asked. 

"  That  thing !  "  she  echoed,  in  pitying  in 
credulity.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say,  Henry, 
28 


Peter  Waydean  is  Found  Wanting 

that  you  don't  know  a  crane  when  you  see 
one?" 

Before  I  could  plead  ignorance  she  dis 
covered  that  the  ceiling  was  timbered,  the 
walls  wainscoted,  and  that  a  settle  stood  in 
the  dim  corner  near  the  fireplace.  "  It  isn't 
worth  while  looking  at  the  rest  of  the 
house,"  she  said,  sitting  down  on  the  settle 
with  a  smile  of  perfect  content ;  "  you  may 
go  and  find  that  old  man.  Whatever  hap 
pens,  we're  going  to  rent  this  place,  but 
don't  tell  him  so — bring  him  to  me.  In  the 
meantime,  remember  he's  got  to  take  a 
fancy  to  you,  so  be  just  as  charming  as  you 
know  how  to  be.  Oh,  you  needn't  laugh !  I 
know  charming  doesn't  seem  the  right  word 
to  apply  to  a  man,  but  that's  what  you  are 
when  you  do  your  best.  You  can  be  more 
agreeable  than  any  man  I  ever  knew,  and 
you  can  be  more — but  there,  do  go,  go — 
you'd  stand  around  all  day  if  you  thought 
I'd  go  on  talking  about  you." 

There  were  several  points  connected  with 
her  remarks  that  I  would  have  liked  to  have 
more  fully  explained,  but  she  was  so  in 
sistent  that  I  prepared  to  go,  and  it  was  not 
29 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

my  fault  that  I  didn't  start,  for  we  suddenly 
became  aware  that  Paul  was  missing.  In 
frantic  haste  we  searched  the  premises  and 
at  last  found  him  sitting  on  a  low  mound  of 
freshly  turned-up  sandy  soil  at  the  back  of 
the  barn,  a  batch  of  sand-cakes  neatly  laid 
out  on  a  board  beside  him.  Now  Paul  had 
never  before  sat  on  the  ground,  he  had  never 
learned  how  to  make  any  kind  of  mud-pies, 
as  far  as  we  knew  he  had  never  heard  of  the 
art,  yet  some  subtle  instinct  had  drawn  him 
to  the  only  spot  within  reach  where  there 
was  a  heap  of  suitable  soil.  The  sight  was 
appalling,  for  it  seemed  as  if  our  brief  forget- 
fulness  must  result  in  his  having  an  attack 
of  pneumonia  or  some  other  dreadful  ail 
ment.  Not  a  word  did  we  say  before  Paul, 
of  course,  for  we  are  careful  not  to  alarm  the 
dear  boy,  both  for  his  sake  and  our  own,  but 
we  conversed  by  expressive  glances  as  we 
walked  back  toward  the  house,  assuring 
each  other  that  we  must  hope  for  the  best 
and  be  prepared  for  the  worst,  and  that  by 
some  miracle  he  might  escape. 

We  had  stopped  to  look  down  the  en 
trance  to  a  large  underground  root-house, 
30 


Peter  Waydean  is  Found  Wanting 

the  door  of  which  was  open,  when  from  the 
inside  came  a  succession  of  feeble  groans. 
There  was  a  heap  of  bags  in  the  doorway, 
and  in  an  instant  I  realized  what  had  hap 
pened:  that  some  man  had  been  overcome 
by  the  poisonous  gases  that  gather  in  pits 
where  vegetables  are  stored. 

I  am  not  one  who  rashly  plunges  into 
danger  without  weighing  the  consequences, 
so  I  didn't  bravely  lose  my  life  by  rushing 
into  the  pit  in  the  vain  attempt  to  carry  an 
other  man  out,  for  I  saw  there  were  several 
good  reasons  against  such  a  course.  First, 
I  knew  that  I  couldn't  carry  a  man  anywhere 
even  under  the  most  favorable  conditions ; 
second,  I  couldn't  bear  to  think  of  the  shock 
to  Marion  if  she  should  become  a  widow; 
third,  it  was  perfectly  clear  to  me  that  if  I  re 
mained  in  the  root-house  Marion  would  at 
tempt  to  save  me,  then  Paul  would  remain 
outside  and  become  an  orphan,  a  howling 
orphan.  Further,  I  was  not  justified  in  risk 
ing  an  undoubtedly  valuable  life  for  one  that 
was  probably  of  no  account. 

A  long  pole  with  a  hook  on  the  end  would 
have  been  useful,  or  a  piece  of  rope,  but 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

neither  was  to  be  found,  and  the  groans  of 
the  man  in  the  root-house  were  becoming 
still  more  alarming,  so,  noticing  the  heavy 
chain  which  held  the  well-bucket,  I  hur 
riedly  tried  to  detach  it,  but  to  my  despair  I 
found  it  was  securely  spiked  to  the  well- 
sweep.  It  was  then  that  Marion  made  one 
of  the  most  brilliant  suggestions  that  I  have 
known  her  to  make :  that  by  swinging  the 
sweep  to  one  side  the  chain  would  hang  di 
rectly  over  the  pit.  I  don't  know  that  she 
saw  the  full  utility  of  this  move,  but  I  did. 
Holding  my  breath,  I  stood  in  the  doorway 
until  I  could  dimly  see  the  prostrate  figure 
on  the  floor,  then  I  darted  inside,  looped  the 
chain  about  him  and  dragged  him  to  the  en 
trance.  He  was  a  heavily  built,  sharp-feat 
ured  man,  past  middle  age,  and  although  he 
lay  on  the  ground  and  gasped  for  breath 
there  was  a  slight  contortion  of  his  features 
that  suggested  repressed  mirth.  Marion 
wanted  me  to  go  for  help,  but  I  told  her  that 
he  was  recovering  and  only  needed  to  be 
moved  from  the  entrance  where  he  lay  to  the 
level  ground  where  the  air  was  fresher.  She 
said  I  would  never  be  able  to  get  him  up  the 
32 


Peter  Waydean  is  Found  Wanting 

incline,  so  I  hastened  to  complete  my  task, 
my  only  fear  being  that  help  would  arrive 
too  soon.  I  tenderly  arranged  a  pad  of  po 
tato  bags  across  his  chest  and  back,  then 
shortening  the  chain  I  passed  it  under  his 
arms  and  again  looped  it  around  his  body. 
All  being  ready,  I  climbed  up  on  the 
weighted  end  of  the  well-sweep,  but  finding 
there  was  not  enough  weight  I  persuaded 
Marion  to  take  my  place,  then  I  sprang  up 
beside  her.  The  effect  was  amazing  to  us, 
unaccustomed  as  we  were  to  this  primitive 
contrivance,  for  our  end  descended  to  the 
ground  with  a  bump,  and,  like  a  hooked  fish, 
high  in  the  air  dangled  the  man  whom  I  had 
gone  to  so  much  trouble  to  save.  He 
emerged  from  unconsciousness  more  rap 
idly  than  a  butterfly  from  its  chrysalis,  and 
his  remarks  as  he  gyrated  at  the  end  of  the 
chain  were  most  abusive.  The  epithets  were 
evidently  intended  for  me,  and  my  anger 
was  aroused  to  such  an  extent  that  I  felt  in 
clined  to  let  him  stay  where  he  was.  "  Keep 
cool,"  I  shouted,  "  and  I'll  see  about  getting 
you  down.  Remember,"  I  admonished  him, 
"  that — that  there  are  ladies  in  the  room.  If 
33 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

you  behave  yourself  and  tell  me  where  to 
find  a  ladder,  I'll  try  to  help  you." 

His  face  grew  crimson  and  he  struggled 
for  speech.  "  A  ladder !  "  he  burst  forth,  at 
last.  "  Get  off  this  darn'  see-saw." 

I  got  off,  so  did  Marion;  but  I  don't 
think  we  understood  the  proper  way  to  get 
off,  for  there  was  a  surprising  thud,  and  I 
saw  that  my  patient  was  sprawling  on  the 
ground  under  the  beam.  I  hastened  to  his 
relief,  reminding  him  as  I  unwound  the 
chain  that  he  should  have  taken  my  advice 
and  waited  for  the  ladder.  He  stood  up  un 
steadily,  wiping  the  dirt  off  his  face  with  his 
sleeve,  then  he  took  off  his  coat,  folded  it 
with  ceremony,  laid  it  on  the  ground  and 
squared  up  to  me. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  with  vicious  determina 
tion,  "  I'm  going  to  settle  with  you." 

He  was  such  a  disreputable  and  absurd 
figure  that  I  couldn't  help  smiling  at  his 
demonstrations.  "  Come,  sir,"  I  said  per 
suasively  ;  "  you  shouldn't  give  way  to  your 
temper.  I  know  that,  from  your  stand-point, 
it  seems  annoying  to  enter  a  root-house  and 
then  discover  that  you  are  suspended  at  the 
34 


Peter  Waydean  is  Found  Wanting 

end  of  a  well-sweep,  but  I  am  not  to  blame. 
It  would  have  been  far  less  trouble  to  me  to 
leave  you  to  be  smothered  among  your 
potatoes  than  to  drag  you  out." 

I  spoke  with  effect ;  his  expression 
changed,  though  he  studied  my  face  with 
suspicion.  "  What's  your  name  ?  "  he  de 
manded. 

"  Henry  Carton,"  I  responded,  with  a  cer 
tain  hesitation,  born  of  a  diffidence  that  al 
ways  seizes  me  when  I  try  to  make  this  an 
nouncement  appear  unimportant.  "  And 
yours?"  I  asked,  genially. 

"  Waydean,"  he  replied,  gruffly. 

"  Peter  Waydean ! "  I  exclaimed,  with 
sudden  enthusiasm,  as  I  grasped  his  hand. 
"  The  very  man  we  were  looking  for !  Al 
low  me  to  introduce  you  to  Mrs.  Carton: 
Marion,  Mr.  Waydean." 

He  bowed  awkwardly,  putting  on  his 
coat.  "  Well  sir,"  he  ejaculated,  with  an  ex 
plosive  laugh,  "  you  do  beat  the  Dutch !  " 

If  our  host  had  been  a  little  remiss  on  the 

score  of  politeness  at  first,  he  made  up  for  it 

by  profuse  expressions  of  gratitude  and  by 

showing  us  every  attention  during  the  time 

35 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

we  spent  with  him  in  looking  over  the 
place.  I  saw  that  he  had  taken  a  fancy  to  us, 
and  that  he  liked  the  idea  of  having  such  de 
sirable  tenants,  for  his  clear  blue  eyes,  un 
usually  limpid  for  an  elderly  man,  beamed 
with  kindly  intention  as  he  talked ;  at  the 
same  time,  his  truthfulness  compelled  him 
to  say  that  he  couldn't  quite  forgive  me  for 
having  hoisted  him  so  high  with  the  well- 
sweep.  "  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Carton,"  he  said, 
with  a  chuckle,  "  I'm  mighty  thankful  to 
you  for  hauling  me  out  of  that  pit,  but  all  the 
same,  I  give  you  fair  warning  that  I'm 
bound  to  get  back  on  you  for  the  way  you 
done  it." 

After  we  had  viewed  the  barn  and  stables 
we  all  went  into  the  house  to  talk  over  the 
business.  He  was  a  man  of  strong  family 
affection,  so  he  would  never  part  with  the 
homestead,  but  we  were  just  the  sort  of 
people  to  take  care  of  what  was  dear  to  him, 
and  he  would  be  willing  to  rent  the  place  to 
us.  He  could  not  live  in  such  a  large  house 
himself,  on  account  of  his  wife  being  an  in 
valid,  but  he  had  often  refused  to  rent  it  to 
other  people,  usually  because — well,  he 
36 


Peter  Waydean  is  Found  Wanting 

didn't  mind  telling  us,  in  confidence,  it 
wasn't  every  family  he  would  care  to  have  as 
neighbors — and  then,  there  was  such  a  dif 
ference  in  children !  Now  that  dear  little 
lad  of  ours,  he  could  swear,  had  never  in  his 
life  thrown  a  stone  at  a  window-pane  or 
pencil-marked  wall-paper — a  little  peaked, 
wasn't  he? — but  just  wait  till  he  had  been 
six  months  at  Waydean,  and  had  bunnies 
and  guinea-pigs,  and  chickens,  turkeys, 
lambs  and  calves,  and  a  pony  of  his  own — 
just  wait ! 

It  was  indeed  a  delicate  matter  for  me  to 
mention  pecuniary  compensation.  Perhaps 
if  I  had  been  alone  I  would  have  ignored 
that  point  altogether,  but  Marion's  signifi 
cant  glances  I  could  not  ignore,  so,  though 
it  sounded  positively  brutal  in  the  face  of  his 
disinterested  appreciation  of  our  worth,  I 
asked  him  the  rent. 

He  made  a  gesture  implying  utter  indif 
ference.  The  fact  was  that,  though  most  of 
the  people  in  the  neighborhood  were  grasp 
ing  and  mean-minded,  he  was  a  man  who 
was  built  straight-up-and-down-and-square- 
all-round,  and  what  he  considered  above 
37 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

everything  was  that  he  would  have  con 
genial  neighbors.  The  farm  was  worth — 
well,  he  wouldn't  say  what  it  was  worth, 
but  I  might  have  it  at  three  hundred  dollars 
a  year.  There  were  fifty  acres  of  land  that 
would  grow  enough  produce  to  pay  the  rent 
of  the  whole  place  and  something  over,  and 
as  I  would  need  a  good  many  implements  he 
would  sell  me  his  for  a  fraction  of  their  cost, 
and  if  I  wanted  a  good  team  of  horses  and  a 
few  cows  all  I  had  to  do  was  to  make  my 
choice  among  his. 

I  had  been  fascinated  by  the  frankly  in 
genuous  assurance  of  his  manner ;  in  fact,  I 
was  mentally  exulting  in  my  good  fortune 
in  finding  such  a  generous  landlord,  when 
the  sound  of  Marion's  voice  aroused  me. 

"  Fifty  acres,  Mr.  Waydean !  "  she  ex 
claimed.  "  That  would  never  do.  My  hus 
band  is  quite  opposed  to  the  idea  of  trying  to 
make  money  by  farming,  and " 

"  Oh,  quite,"  I  interjected,  shaking  my 
head  with  emphasis. 

"  We  want  to  live  in  the  country,"  she 
continued,  "  but  we  can't  afford  to  actually 
farm." 

38 


Peter  Waydean  is  Found  Wanting 

"  Between  ourselves,  Mr.  Waydean,"  I 
hastened  to  say,  "  I've  seen  so  much  of  city 
people  fooling  away  money  in  farming  that 
I've  made  up  my  mind  not  to  work  any  more 
land  than  I  can  attend  to  with  a  spade,  a 
rake  and  a  hoe." 

He  stared  at  us  in  turn,  incredulity  giving 
place  to  gloom  as  he  realized  that  I  was  se 
rious  ;  then  he  turned  to  Marion  in  a  burst 
of  candor.  "  I  tell  you  what,  ma'am,"  he 
said,  with  warm  approval,  "  I  ain't  met 
many  men  with  so  much  downright  com 
mon-sense  as  your  husband.  I'll  own  that 
I'm  a  bit  sorry  that  he  don't  want  to  work 
the  farm,  for  I'm  getting  old  and  I'd  like  a 
rest,  but  the  truth  is  that  running  a  farm 
costs  a  lot  of  money,  and  farmers  come  out 
at  the  wrong  end  of  the  horn  most  years. 
However,  you've  took  a  fancy  to  the  place 
and  I've  took  a  shine  to  you,  so  I'll  tell  you 
what  I'll  do  :  I'll  work  the  farming  land  my 
self,  and  you  can  take  the  house  and 
grounds  for  four  hundred  a  year." 

Peter  stood  in  the  attitude  of  an  auc 
tioneer  who  is  forced  to  throw  away  a  desir 
able  no-reserve  lot  on  the  first  bid ;  surely, 
39 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

then,  my  ears  had  deceived  me  into  thinking 
that  this  was  a  larger  sum  than  he  had  asked 
for  the  whole  farm. 

Marion  was  the  first  to  bpeak.  "  I  don't 
quite  see,"  she  began  dubiously,  "  isn't  that 
more?" 

"  Certainly,  ma'am,"  he  responded ;  "  but 
how  far'd  a  hundred  dollars  go  in  wages  for 
hired  help?  If  I  wasn't  throwing  in  my 
work  free  I  couldn't  afford  to  take  them  fifty 
acres  off  your  hands  at  that  figure.  Of 
course,  I'd  sooner  you  took  the  hull  place  at 
three  hundred,  then  as  much  more  would 
hire  you  a  man,  and  if  Mr.  Carton  looked 
after  him  pretty  sharp  there  might  be 
enough  crop  to  feed  your  horses  and  cow, 
and  he  wouldn't  have  to  spend  more  than 
a  thousand  dollars  in  stock  and  implements 
to  start  with." 

I  was  slightly  irritated  that  he  addressed 
these  remarks  solely  to  Marion ;  one  might 
have  supposed  that  he  thought  she  was  the 
head  of  the  family  and  that  I  was  not  even 
a  party  of  the  first  part. 

"  I'll  think  the  matter  over,"  I  began,  with 

dignified  hauteur,  "  and  let  you " 

40 


Peter  Waydean  is  Found  Wanting 

Peter  turned  to  me  hastily.  "  That's  as 
reasonable  as  I  can  do,"  he  explained,  with 
plaintive  determination ;  "  and  I've  got  to 
know  right  away  if  you  want  the  place." 

"  Well,"  I  began,  with  an  eager  eye  on 
Marion  for  the  cue,  "  I — I " 

"  There's  another  man  after  it,"  urged 
Peter,  "  and  he's  coming  to-morrow  for  my 
answer." 

Marion  gasped.  "  We'd  better  pay  the — 
the  four  "— 

"The  four  hundred,"  I  decided,  for  her, 
"  and  let  you  run  the  farm." 

"  Done,"  snapped  Peter. 


It  was  evening  when  we  parted  from 
Peter  Waydean  on  the  s'tation  platform.  He 
shook  me  warmly  by  the  hand  as  the  train 
appeared. 

"  You're  a  gentleman,  Mr.  Carton,  from 
the  word  go,"  he  shouted  hoarsely  in  my  ear. 
"  The  bargain's  made,  and  though  there's 
no  writing  betwixt  us,  there's  no  need  of 
any,  for  we're  men  of  honor.  I'll  tell  the 
other  man  " 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  I  assented,  detaching 
myself  as  the  train  slowed  up. 

"  Not  a  word  to  the  neighbors  about  the 
well-sweep,  or  about  what  you're  paying  for 
the  place,"  he  continued,  holding  the  lapel 
of  my  coat.  "  They're  a  prying,  gossiping 
lot,  and  I  wouldn't  like  it  known  that  you 
hoisted  me  on  that  darn  see-saw.  It's  the 
first  time  Peter  Waydean  was  ever  treed,  but 
considering  that  you're  the  man  that  done  it, 
we'll  cry  quits." 

As  I  caught  a  flashing  steely  glint  in  the 
depths  of  his  ingenuous  blue  eyes  the  con 
viction  was  borne  in  upon  me  that,  like  the 
simulated  stillness  of  a  deadly  revolving 
tool,  his  simplicity  and  truth  were  more  ap 
parent  than  real.  And  this  was  the  impres 
sion  that  made  me  so  silent  and  thoughtful 
on  our  journey  back  to  the  city. 

For  the  close  of  such  an  eventful  day  we 
had  little  to  say  to  each  other.  With  every 
mile  that  we  travelled  an  unpleasant  sus 
picion  grew  stronger  as  I  thought  over  the 
bargain  with  that  guileful  man;  gradually 
the  suspicion  changed  to  a  certainty,  and 
then  it  was  that  I  became  aware  that 
42 


Peter  Waydean  is  Found  Wanting 

Marion,  who  had  also  been  strangely  silent, 
was  studying  me  with  a  tantalizing  air  of 
knowing  my  thoughts. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  I  asked,  with  sudden  an 
noyance. 

"  I  was  just  thinking,"  she  began,  then 
she  stopped  to  laugh  gleefully — "  do  you  re 
member  what  the  postmistress  said  about 
him  skin  " 

"  Don't  repeat  it,"  I  snapped,  squirming. 
"  Of  course  I  remember,  but  I  don't  see  the 
application." 

"  Well,  you  shouldn't  expect  to  if  there 
isn't  any,"  she  said,  with  renewed  mirth. 
"  It  was  odd,  too,  that  he  warned  you  he'd 
pay  you  back  for  hoisting  him." 

"  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  explain  the 
connection?  "  I  demanded  fiercely. 

It  really  is  unsafe  to  use  that  tone  with 
Marion.  There  was  a  little  flash  in  her  eyes ; 
my  glare  faltered,  then  her  brief  resentment 
melted  into  sympathy. 

"  Connection  ?  "  she  answered.  "  Why, 
what  connection  could  there  be  ?  " 

My  hand  sought  hers,  in  gratitude.  There 
was  a  pause,  then  we  both  laughed,  and 
43 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

somehow  the  bitterness  of  knowing  I  had 
been  gulled  passed  away ;  I  even  felt  a  sym 
pathetic  appreciation  of  his  artistic  touch  in 
assuring  me  that  we  were  both  men  of 
honor. 

Suddenly  Marion  grasped  my  arm. 
"  Henry,"  she  exclaimed,  "  he's  the  man  you 
want !  " 

"  The  man  I  want  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes ;  didn't  you  say  you  wanted  a 
central  figure  for  that  set  of  rural  sketches 
you've  planned  ?" 

"  By  Jove,"  I  cried,  with  kindling  enthu 
siasm,  "  he's  a  character  all  ready  made !  If 
I  do  him  justice,  he'll  be  a — a  regular  gold 
mine." 

I  was  rather  puzzled  by  a  meaning,  but  to 
me,  inscrutable  smile  that  lingered  on  Mar 
ion's  face  after  this  comment,  but  she  so 
often  sees  more  in  a  remark  of  mine  than  I 
do  that  I  prefer  not  to  spoil  the  effect  by  ask 
ing  for  an  explanation. 


44 


Ill 


"April  day  on  which  we  moved  to 
1  Waydean  was  an  ideal  one  in  regard 
to  weather,  and  my  arrangements  came  so 
near  to  perfection  that  we  began  the  usually 
irksome  work  of  moving  with  joyous  zest. 
I  had  chalked  a  number  on  every  piece  of 
furniture  and  box  of  sundries,  also  on  the 
door  of  each  room  in  the  farm-house,  so  as 
to  avoid  having  the  kitchen  stove  carried 
upstairs  and  the  bedroom  furniture  placed 
in  the  parlor,  and  this  plan  elicited  warm 
approbation  from  Marion.  To  say  that  her 
approval  gratified  me  scarcely  expresses  my 
elation,  for  although  I  was  proud  of  the 
plan  I  was  quite  prepared  to  have  her  point 
out  some  fatal  defect.  I  can  indulge  in 
platitudes  and  commonplaces  with  impu 
nity,  but  a  really  original,  trade-marked 
idea  is  usually  a  gauntlet  flung  into  the 
45 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

arena,  the  activity  of  my  mind  producing 
a  reflex  action  upon  hers.  In  this  case  I 
took  extraordinary  care  to  provide  against 
anything  happening  to  mar  the  successful 
carrying  out  of  my  scheme,  not  even  closing 
the  bargain  with  the  owner  of  the  moving 
van  until  he  had  indorsed  it  with  enthu 
siasm.  This  man,  Bliggs  by  name,  urged 
me  to  patent  the  idea,  waxing  as  indignant 
as  if  I  had  impugned  his  moral  character 
when  I  modestly  demurred. 

"  Look  'ere,  Mr.  Carton,"  he  snapped, 
"  wot  could  be  more  simpler  ?  Wen  there's 
a  man  or  a  woman  a-standin'  at  the  door 
shoutin'  to  be  keerful  an'  hurry  up,  an'  put 
this  'ere  an'  that  there,  an'  hobstructin' 
gin'rally,  there's  bound  to  be  trouble.  W'y, 
in  Lunnon  you  don't  ketch  the  bobbies 
botherin'  about  common  drunks  in  movin' 
season,  for  they  knows  there's  goin'  to  be  a 
full  docket  of  assaults  an'  batteries  an' 
'busive  langwidges.  W'y,  with  your  plan 
there  wouldn't  be  none  o'  that,  for  a  man  'd 
jest  onload  'is  dray  as  mum  as  a  trained  pig 
a-pickin'  hout  cards.  Mr.  Carton,"  he  con 
cluded,  "  Hi'll  put  every  blessed  piece  in  the 
46 


An  Upheaval 

right  room  an'  set  up  yer  kitchen  stove  an' 
bedstids  free." 

My  heart  warmed  to  Bliggs,  for  his  active 
movements  as  he  loaded  the  wagon  inspired 
me  with  confidence,  and  when  he  drove  off 
with  his  two  helpers  I  had  not  a  doubt  but 
that  he  would  carry  out  his  cheerful  assur 
ances. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  by  the  time 
we  locked  the  door  of  our  dismantled  house. 
The  click  of  the  lock  sent  a  lump  into 
my  throat  that  caused  me  to  turn  quickly 
away,  but  Marion  lingered,  heaving  a  lit 
tle  sigh  of  regret.  It  is  a  peculiarity  of 
hers  to  look  back  if  that  process  is  at  all 
likely  to  result  in  a  sigh ;  for  my  own 
part,  I  prefer  to  look  straight  ahead  if  I  sus 
pect  there  is  to  be  any  attempt  to  stir  up  my 
well  of  emotion,  and,  in  consequence,  on 
rare  occasions  I  have  been  called  cold 
blooded.  Paul  is  different  in  this  respect; 
he  is  the  dividing  line  between  us.  Marion 
caught  him  younger,  and  his  plastic  little 
soul  has  been  moulded  with  loving  care.  He 
is  sympathetic  and  responsive.  He  is  not 
like  any  one  musical  instrument ;  he  is  like 
47 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

two.  As  easily  moved  as  an  ^Eolian  harp, 
he  has  the  fire,  spirit  and  continuity  of  the 
bagpipes. 

"  Look,  Paul !  "  said  his  mother  tenderly, 
her  eyes  moistening.  "  Say  '  Good-by,  old 
house.'  ". 

It  was,  at  the  least,  an  injudicious  remark. 
Up  to  that  moment  we  had  been  positively 
gleeful,  and  Paul  had  looked  upon  the 
change  as  a  glorified  picnic,  for  I  had  taken 
pains  to  instil  the  belief  that  Waydean 
would  be  an  earthly  elysium  for  a  small  boy  ; 
but  now,  with  a  woman's  pensive  touch,  my 
carefully  built  fabric  collapsed.  Paul's  big 
solemn  eyes  grew  cloudy ;  a  faint  crescent 
appeared  on  each  side  of  his  mouth,  deepen 
ing  gradually.  I  watched  this  development 
in  dumb  despair,  while  Marion  was  absorbed 
in  tender  reminiscence,  then,  before  I  could 
utter  a  warning  cry,  his  mouth  shot  open  to 
the  amazing  degree  that  I  knew  so  well.  I 
grabbed  him  hastily,  kneeling  down.  "  Lis 
ten,  Paul !  "  I  shouted  into  his  ear.  "  We'll 
move  back — to-morrow — if  you  like." 

I  stood  up  suddenly,  amazed ;  a  hand  had 
clutched  my  collar  and  almost  pulled  me 
48 


An  Upheaval 

backward — Marion's  flashing  eyes  met 
mine.  "  Such  a  falsehood !  "  she  gasped. 
"  How  dare  you !  " 

I  did  not  hear  these  words,  but  I  knew 
what  she  said  by  the  motion  of  her  lips ;  be 
sides,  her  manner  made  it  perfectly  plain 
that  I  was  supposed  to  have  infringed  the 
truth,  so  speech  was  superfluous.  As  a  mat 
ter  of  fact  I  could  have  disproved  the  charge, 
but  not  before  Paul,  for  we  strive  to  avoid 
discussing  such  matters  before  him ;  any 
way,  I  would  have  needed  a  megaphone  to 
make  myself  heard.  Therefore,  I  stepped 
humbly  aside,  with  a  gesture  that  indicated 
my  complete  willingness  to  leave  the  matter 
to  his  mother. 

"  Paul,  dear, — listen,"  she  called  out, 
bending  over  him ;  "  we're  not  going  to 
move  back — ever." 

The  effect  was  instantaneous ;  he  dropped 
to  the  sidewalk,  renewing  his  efforts  as  he 
wriggled  in  anguish.  I  was  obliged  to  pick 
him  up  in  accordance  with  Marion's  frantic 
gestures,  and  we  retreated  into  the  empty 
house,  where  she  pacified  him  in  course  of 
time.  I  do  not  know  the  precise  method  she 
49 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

adopted,  but  I  think,  from  snatches  of  con 
versation  that  reached  me,  that  beautiful 
native  birds  figured  largely — among  others, 
storks !  I  know  that  storks  do  not  grow  at 
Waydean,  yet  I  preserved  a  grim  silence, 
thinking  what  a  strong  case  I  might  make, 
were  I  not  too  generous  to  do  so. 

I  was  justly  indignant,  for  I  do  not  seem 
to  be  able  to  make  Marion  understand  that, 
like  her,  I  have  a  horror  of  untruth  ;  in  fact, 
I  am  more  cautious  in  my  statements  than 
any  other  journalist  I  know  ;  but  while  I  am 
placidly  content  to  accept  any  assertion  of 
hers  without  question,  she  is  likely  to  quib 
ble  over  almost  every  statement  I  make. 
I  admit  that  I  am  forgetful,  that  to-morrow 
I  may  say  exactly  the  opposite  to  what  I 
say  to-day,  that  what  I  condemn  in  the 
abstract  may  seem  to  me  expedient  and 
proper  under  certain  conditions,  but  I  ob 
ject  to  being  openly  accused  of  prevarica 
tion.  Paul,  as  I  have  said,  is  not  an  ordi 
nary  child  (and  although  people  who  are 
not  his  parents  are  inclined  to  use  a  compas 
sionate  tone  in  making  that  remark,  I  do 
so  with  defiant  pride),  therefore  he  should 
5° 


An  Upheaval 

be  treated  with  tactful  consideration  not 
accorded  to  common  children.  He  re 
sponds  to  my  sympathetic  touch,  I  am  glad 
to  say,  with  sweet  concords;  that  is,  of 
course,  if  my  elbow  is  not  joggled  by  his 
mother.  In  this  case,  though  I  spoke  in 
haste,  my  words  would  have  stopped  Paul's 
outcry  had  Marion  left  him  to  me,  and  had 
she  not  been  prone  to  suspicion  she  would 
have  seen  that  my  statement  was  absolute 
ly  truthful.  I  knew  that  the  child  had  been 
moved  by  a  passing  sentiment  and  would 
be  more  than  content  with  our  new  home 
once  he  was  transplanted,  but  I  was  deeply 
grieved  at  his  mother  suspecting  me  of 
being  so  base  as  not  to  be  willing  to  move 
back  to  the  city  the  next  day  if  Paul  liked. 

We  had  missed  the  first  afternoon  train, 
and  after  a  dreary  wait  for  the  next  one 
we  arrived  at  the  little  country  station  just 
at  dusk,  and  before  we  reached  Waydean 
darkness  had  fallen.  We  groped  our  way 
around  to  the  back  door  and  stumbled  into 
the  kitchen,  where  I  lit  a  candle  I  had 
brought.  My  heart  sank  at  the  first  glance 
about  the  room,  for  it  was  quite  empty  and 
5' 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

I  feared  that  our  goods  had  not  arrived, 
but  when  I  peered  fearfully  into  the  next 
room  I  saw  that  what  looked  at  first  like 
a  railroad  box-car  was  a  rectangular  erec 
tion  of  all  our  household  belongings.  We 
stared  incredulously  by  the  light  of  the  flick 
ering  candle,  walking  around  the  structure 
in  despair.  Next  the  ceiling,  like  a  statue 
on  its  massive  base,  our  cooking-stove 
perched  giddily — Bliggs  had  set  it  up  with 
a  vengeance ! — on  the  very  bottom  lay  all 
our  beds  and  bedding,  hopelessly  buried, 
for  if  I  attempted  to  disturb  the  pile,  down 
would  plunge  that  threatening  mass  of 
metal.  Bliggs  was  a  fiend  ! 

A  strip  of  torn  wall-paper  hung  down  like 
a  banner  from  a  projecting  curtain-pole;  it 
was  covered  with  rude  pencillings,  which  we 
deciphered  together  after  Paul  had  dropped 
asleep  on  my  overcoat,  with  this  result: 

Mister  Carton. 

hduv  a  rode. 

hosses  nere  ded. 

men  kickt. 

basht  cm  fur  emttn  boteL 

basht  em  fur  mutinin  bout  Justin  stov. 
52 


An  Upheaval 

to  dark  to  ce  cJwk  marks. 

done  nex  bes  stile. 

heluv  a  gob  *wel  dun. 

wilyum  bliggs. 

I  opened  the  kitchen  door  and  looked 
despairingly  out  into  the  darkness;  the 
twinkling  light  of  the  next  farm-house  shone 
far  away  like  a  star  on  the  horizon ;  I  must 
go  over  there  and  ask  for  food  and  lodging 
as  if  we  were  penniless  wayfarers.  Marion 
stood  beside  me,  and  together  we  tried  to 
assure  each  other  that  the  people  whose 
light  looked  so  cheery  must  be  warm 
hearted  and  hospitable  enough  to  make  us 
welcome.  As  we  gazed,  a  second  light  ap 
peared  near  the  farm-house ;  evidently  some 
person  had  come  out  with  a  lantern,  for 
we  could  hear  his  carolling  whistle  accom 
panying  the  gliding  movement  of  the  light. 
It  was  coming  nearer,  for  we  could  sobn 
make  out  the  lilting  melody  of  the  whistler 
and  the  encircling  glow  that  surrounded 
him,  and  I  felt  Marion's  grasp  tighten  on 
my  arm  with  a  sudden  hope  that  had  also 
sprung  up  in  my  breast.  Nearer  and  nearer 
he  came,  until  the  globe  of  light  grew  larger 
53 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

and  cast  titanic  shadows  of  a  pair  of  nim 
ble  legs  that  passed  around  the  end  of  the 
barn,  through  the  yard,  up  to  our  very 
door,  where  we  stood  spellbound;  then  the 
whistle  ceased,  the  lantern  was  raised,  and 
by  its  dazzling  glow  we  saw  a  little  man 
with  kindly  gray  eyes  and  thin  reddish 
whiskers  standing  there. 

"  Good-evenin' !  "  he  called  out,  cheerily. 
"  We  heard  there  was  some  people  movin' 
in  to-day,  and  we  thought  you  might  be 
kinder  upsot,  so  I  come  to  see  if  you 
wouldn't  step  along  over  to  our  place  and 
have  supper  and  stay  the  night.  The  missis 
has  the  beds  ready,  and  Sairey  knows  how 
to  fix  things  comfortable." 

There  was  a  moment's  awkward  pause, 
for  we  were  dumb  with  excess  of  emotion. 

"  You  don't  know  my  name,  and  I  don't 
know  yourn,"  he  proceeded.  "  Mine's  Andy 
Taylor,  and  my  place  is  next  south,  over 
there  where  you  see  that  light." 

I  clutched  his  hand.     "  Mr.  Taylor,"  I 
gasped,  "  come  in.    I  was  afraid  you  were 
an  angel — perhaps  you  are,  but  we — we're 
awfully  glad  to  see  you." 
54 


An  Upheaval 

"  It's  so  good  "  —  began  Marion,  then 
she  collapsed. 

"Why,  where's  your  load?"  he  asked, 
looking  around  the  vacant  room. 

I  showed  him,  while  Marion  held  the 
candle  aloft.  I  related  my  wrongs  with 
passionate  fervor;  I  exhibited  the  Bliggs 
epistle,  translating  the  rude  characters  as  I 
traced  them  with  a  trembling  forefinger 
and  called  down  vengeance  on  the  head  of 
the  perpetrator.  A  spasm  shot  across  my 
visitor's  face  and  his  wide-open  mouth 
closed  with  a  snap ;  he  leaned  forward  help 
lessly  as  if  a  sneeze  had  seized  him,  then 
a  wild  outburst  of  hilarity  smote  our  as 
tonished  ears.  "  Oh,  Lordy,  Lordy !  "  he 
groaned.  "  The  upliftin'  power  "  —  he 
pointed  upward  to  the  stove  —  "of  —  of 
strong  drink !  " 

Andy  Taylor's  lantern  shed  its  cheering 
rays  over  us  as  he  led  the  way  across  the 
fields  to  the  distant  beacon-light  of  his 
house.  Forlorn,  homesick,  discouraged,  as 
we  had  been,  his  friendly  hospitality  filled 
us  with  gratitude  too  deep  for  words.  His 
unquestioning  acceptance  of  us  as  guests 
55 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

was  staggering,  accustomed  as  we  were  to 
the  artificial  restrictions  of  social  inter 
course  in  the  city.  As  Marion  said  after 
ward,  I  might  have  been  a  temporarily 
retired  burglar  who  had  eloped  with  an 
other  man's  wife  and  kidnapped  a  child,  or 
we  might  have  been  dangerous  lunatics,  or 
worse, — we  might  have  been  vulgar  people ! 
But  yet,  with  the  all-embracing  charity  that 
thinketh  no  evil,  Andy's  sprightly  step  led 
us  from  the  chaotic  discomfort  of  our  new 
home  to  the  warmth  and  cheer  that  awaited 
us  in  his.  No  wonder,  then,  that  Marion 
wept  like  a  tired  child  on  the  shoulder  of 
the  motherly  old  lady  who  welcomed  us,  or 
that  Andy,  after  one  glance  at  my  expres 
sive  face,  backed  away  with  a  hurried  re 
mark  about  having  to  attend  to  the  fire. 
Later,  when  Paul  had  been  put  to  sleep  in 
an  old-fashioned  billowy  feather  bed,  we 
settled  ourselves  in  the  kitchen  for  a  smoke. 
We  could  hear  from  the  sitting-room  the 
continuous  restful  murmur  of  the  women's 
voices,  rising  and  falling  in  the  responsive 
cadences  of  that  sweet  communion  that  be 
tokens,  even  in  the  most  prosaic  utterances, 
56 


An  Upheaval 

the  mingling  of  kindred  spirits  of  the  gen 
tle  sex.  I  look  back  upon  that  evening 
as  one  of  the  pleasantest  I  ever  spent,  and 
I  enjoyed  to  the  full  the  quaint  sayings  and 
funny  stories  of  the  genial  little  man  who 
entertained  me. 

The  clock  struck  eleven  before  either  of 
us  noticed  the  lateness  of  the  hour.  Andy 
rose  reluctantly,  knocking  the  ashes  out  of 
his  pipe. 

"Well,  Mr.  Carton,"  said  he,  "I'm 
mighty  glad  you're  goin'  to  be  a  neighbor 
of  mine.  The  women-folk  seem  to  have  hit 
it  off,  too,"  he  added,  opening  the  door  into 
the  next  room,  "  and  " 

He  stopped  speaking,  and  a  look  of  as 
tonishment  crossed  his  face  as  a  tumultuous 
babel  of  conversation  reached  our  ears. 
The  voices  no  longer  rose  and  fell — they 
rose  steadily,  each  dominating  the  other,  it 
seemed,  and  yet — marvel  of  marvels ! — in 
perfect  amity,  though  they  no  longer  re 
sponded  but  spoke  at  one  and  the  same 
time. 

"  If  it  was  two  men  ?  "  whispered  Andy, 
with  a  chuckle. 

57 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

"  Exactly,"  I  replied ;  "  it  would  mean  a 
fight." 

We  listened  intently.  It  was  a  problem 
— simple  to  the  speakers — of  gussets,  and 
pleats,  and  back  widths,  and  yet  not  one 
connected  sentence  could  we  hear. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Carton,"  said  Andy, 
in  his  hoarse  whisper,  "  I've  been  married 
forty-two  years,  and  I  ain't  found  anything 
yet  as  entertainin'  as  the  ways  of  a  woman." 

"Well,"  I  suggested,  "what  about  the 
ways  of  two  women  ?  " 

Andy  doubled  himself  over  in  silent  glee ; 
as  for  me,  I  felt  that  I  had  said  something 
rather  neat,  and  tried  not  to  smile  myself. 
Just  then  the  voices  in  the  next  room  sud 
denly  ceased. 

"  Well,  I  declare  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Tay 
lor.  "  It's  after  eleven.  I  wonder  what 
them  men  is  talkin'  about  so  quiet  in  the 
kitchen.  If  your  husband  lets  him,  Andy'll 
jest  talk  him  blind,  once  he  gets  started." 

Marion  laughed  merrily.  "  Why,  Mrs. 
Taylor,"  she  said,  "  how  absurd !  You 
don't  know  Henry,  or  you  wouldn't  say 
that." 

58 


An  Upheaval 

"  Talk  about  women  gossipin',  as  men  do, 
Mrs.  Carton,  I  believe  there's  more  gossip 
goes  on  among  the  men  down  at  the  post- 
office  every  day  than  all  the  women  round 
here  do  in  a  week.  Now  Andy  " 

At  that  moment  Andy  softly  shut  the 
door,  shuffled  a  chair  across  the  floor  osten 
tatiously  and  announced  in  a  loud  tone  that 
it  was  time  to  get  to  bed. 


S9 


IV 

THE  EDUCATION  OF  GRIGGS 

WE  had  lived  for  two  months  at  Way- 
dean,  and,  although  as  far  as  agri 
cultural  operations  were  concerned  we 
might  as  well  have  been  in  the  city,  I  had 
begun  to  appreciate  the  delights  of  a  coun 
try  life  without  the  usual  drudgery,  worry 
and  expense.  I  was  not  raising  grain  at 
two  dollars  a  bushel  to  sell  for  fifty  cents, 
or  making  butter  at  a  cost  of  a  dollar  a 
pound  to  sell  for  a  quarter  of  a  dollar,  but 
I  had  time  during  the  hot  weather  to  enjoy 
the  sight  of  Peter  Waydean's  waving  fields 
as  I  swung  in  a  hammock  under  the  trees, 
while  that  old  sinner  frizzled  in  the  glaring 
sunlight  over  his  work.  Occasionally  I  re 
freshed  myself  by  sauntering  to  the  field 
where  he  happened  to  be  working,  to  have 
a  little  friendly  conversation  with  him,  and 
I  never  failed  to  let  him  know  that  new 
beauties  were  revealed  to  me  day  by  day  in 
60 


The  Education  of  Griggs 

the  agreement  to  pay  him  an  extra  hundred 
dollars  for  working  his  own  land.  At  first 
he  had  showed  signs  of  looking  upon  me 
with  the  contemptuous  irritation  of  an 
angler  who  has  accidentally  landed  a  mud- 
pout,  but  when  I  artlessly  hinted  that  I 
would  have  been  willing  to  pay  a  higher 
rent  for  the  place  rather  than  make  a  slave 
of  myself  as  he  did,  I  could  see  that  his  pre 
vious  delight  in  his  own  cleverness  was 
completely  overshadowed  by  the  bitter  re 
gret  that  he  had  not  made  more  of  his 
opportunity. 

We  had  no  cattle  of  our  own,  but  Peter's 
were  in  plain  view  in  the  lower  field.  We 
had  no  sheep,  but  Peter's  little  flock 
picturesquely  dotted  the  landscape.  We 
didn't  own  a  horse,  but,  after  all,  Marion 
had  a  terror  of  being  run  away  with,  and  I 
had  made  an  inflexible  rule  never  to  go 
within  range  of  a  horse's  hind  legs.  And 
in  the  matter  of  confining  my  farm  expendi 
ture  to  the  price  of  a  spade,  a  rake  and  a 
hoe,  I  had  been  most  loyal  and  consistent ; 
I  had  stuck  not  only  to  the  letter  of  our 
agreement,  but  also  to  the  spirit.  Indeed, 
61 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

I  was  not  merely  resigned,  but  cheerful, 
knowing  that  the  more  closely  I  appeared 
to  cling  to  Marion's  plan  the  sooner  would 
she  begin  to  waver. 

But  a  chance  remark  that  I  overheard 
Abner  Davis  make  one  morning  as  I 
boarded  the  train  changed  my  mental  atti 
tude  in  an  instant.  "  He  ain't  no  reg'lar 
farmer — oh,  Jiminy,  no  ! — ha,  ha ! — he's 
jest  " —  How  he  finally  labelled  me  to  his 
fellow-rustic  I  never  heard,  for  the  train 
slowed  up  at  the  platform,  and  his  voice 
was  drowned  in  the  noise.  I  just  had  time 
to  turn,  before  I  stepped  on  board,  to  cast 
a  withering  glance  backwards — a  glance 
that  was  wasted,  however,  for  Abner  was 
poking  the  other  man  in  the  side  with  his 
thumb  and  they  were  both  doubled  over 
with  merriment.  Of  course,  he  hadn't  in 
tended  me  to  hear,  and  I  was  quite  aware 
that  I  was  not  a  farmer,  either  regular  or 
irregular,  but  it  was  this  fact  that  made  the 
remark  so  galling.  There  are  two  things  I 
cannot  bear:  one  is  what  Marion  calls  the 
truth,  for  that  always  turns  out  to  be  some 
thing  odious  and  objectionable ;  the  other 
62 


The  Education  of  Griggs 

is  ridicule.  That  morning  my  mind  was 
filled  with  bitterness,  for  Abner  Davis  had 
managed  to  combine  in  one  brief  remark 
the  essence  of  much  that  I  disliked  to  hear. 
The  rhythmic  beat  of  the  car-wheels  clanked 
out  the  derisive  refrain,  "  He  ain't — no  reg 
— 'lar  far — mer !  "  By  the  time  I  reached 
the  city  I  had  decided  it  was  due  to  my 
self-respect  to  put  things  on  a  different 
basis.  Certainly,  I  was  not  a  farmer.  I  had 
neither  a  horse,  nor  a  cow,  nor  a  sheep — no, 
not  even  a  guinea-pig!  I  had  no  agri 
cultural  implements,  except, — oh,  hateful 
thought ! — a  spade,  a  rake  and  a  hoe. 

I  was  in  this  mood  when  Harold  Jones 
unloaded  Griggs  upon  me  in  the  restaurant 
where  I  was  taking  lunch.  I  knew  from  the 
twinkle  in  Harold's  eye  when  he  introduced 
us  that  he  meant  mischief.  "  Griggs,"  he 
explained  to  me,  "  has  got  farm-on-the- 
brain.  Carton,"  he  explained  to  Griggs, 
"  had  such  a  severe  attack  that  his  mind  is 
unhinged.  He  imagines — ha,  ha ! — that 
he's  a  farmer !  Now  you  two  sit  down  and 
exchange  symptoms.  I  have  to  get  back  to 
the  office." 

63 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

I  treated  Griggs  with  distant  civility,  not 
because  he  was  thrust  upon  me,  but  because 
it  usually  takes  me  a  year  or  more  to  get 
beyond  formalities  with  an  acquaintance. 
But  Griggs  was  impervious  to  hauteur ;  he 
was  unconstrained  and  hearty  enough  for 
two.  I  could  see  that  Harold  had  spoken 
the  truth  in  his  case,  for  his  farming  mania 
was  at  its  height,  and  he  was  overjoyed  at 
finding  a  man  who  had  done  what  he  mere 
ly  dreamed  of  doing.  He  was  a  produce 
commission  merchant,  he  told  me,  and  he 
was  convinced  that  he  could  double  his  in 
come  and  prolong  his  life  by  running  a 
farm  in  connection  with  his  business.  It 
was  a  simple  proposition,  he  stated,  that  a 
child  could  grasp.  A  farmer  makes  a  profit 
by  farming,  a  commission  merchant  by 
commissioning;  therefore,  if  the  merchant 
were  also  a  farmer  would  he  not  absorb  both 
profits  ? 

Griggs  tilted  his  chair,  hooked  his  thumbs 
into  his  waistcoat,  and  challenged  me  to 
point  out  a  flaw  in  his  theory.  I  de 
clined,  for  the  simple  reason,  I  said,  that  it 
was  flawless ;  then  I  rose  to  make  my  escape. 
64 


The  Education  of  Griggs 

Griggs  adjured  me  to  sit  down  for  a  min 
ute  ;  he  had  a  few  questions  to  ask,  and  I 
was  the  man  of  all  men  to  give  him  the  in 
formation  he  sought. 

Now  a  stitch  in  time,  it  is  said,  saves  nine ; 
a  lie,  a  little  one,  a  mere  clerical  plea  of  a 
pressing  engagement,  would  have  saved 
ninety  or  more.  Had  I  not  instinctively  re 
frained  from  loosening  one  stitch  in  my 
garment  of  righteousness  it  would  not  have 
been  torn  to  tatters. 

I  hesitated ;  I  sat  down ;  I  was  lost. 
Griggs  grew  friendly,  more  friendly,  affec 
tionate  ;  he  addressed  me  by  my  surname, 
and  I  realized  that  I  was  in  the  clutches  of 
the  objectionable  type  of  person  who  claps 
you  on  the  back  at  the  second  meeting,  and 
demands  with  a  boisterous  laugh,  "  How 
goes  it,  old  man  ?  " 

Beginning  with  generalities  pertaining  to 
agriculture,  he  questioned  me  searchingly 
upon  my  private  affairs.  I  can  parry,  and 
occasionally  thrust — but  not  against  a  bat 
tering-ram.  Grigg's  questions  were  not  to 
be  evaded.  I  could  have  declined  point- 
blank  to  answer,  thus  intimating  that  he  was 
65 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

a  boor,  but  that  would  have  been  unpleasant 
to  me — perhaps  not  to  Griggs.  I  could 
have  followed  my  natural  inclination  by 
telling  the  truth,  but  I  recoiled  from  laying 
bare  to  a  stranger  the  peculiar  economies  of 
our  rural  life ;  besides,  I  shrink  from  intru 
sion  with  the  same  shyness  that  causes  me 
to  slink  guiltily  into  a  shop  if  I  see  a  man 
approaching  who  is  indebted  to  me.  There 
was  but  one  other  alternative ;  I  took  it.  I 
smiled  my  most  frankly  ingenuous  smile ;  I 
beamed  upon  him  with  warm-hearted  en 
couraging  candor  and — lied  !  Yes,  lied  with 
beggarly  duplicity,  and  I  kept  on  with  Spar 
tan  fortitude;  and  so  smooth  is  the  grade 
on  the  broad  and  downward  road  that  pres 
ently  I  was  enjoying  my  own  depravity. 
My  imaginings  no  longer  appeared  as  ugly 
bloated  caterpillars,  but  spun  themselves 
swiftly  into  chrysalides  and  instantly 
emerged  as  gorgeous  butterflies,  dazzling 
to  their  creator.  And  yet  my  mind  re 
mained  alert  and  clear.  Every  statement 
that  I  made  was  notched  deeply  into  my 
own  brain,  so  that  I  could  afterwards  recall 
the  slightest  detail ;  into  Griggs's  also,  for 
66 


The  Education  of  Griggs 

he  snapped  at,  swallowed  and  assimilated 
every  fragment  of  information  with  the 
avidity  of  a  starved  dog.  We  began  in  this 
way : — 

"  How  many  acres  in  your  farm?  " 

"  Fifty."  (It  really  was  my  farm,  for  I  was 
paying  more  than  the  rent  of  the  whole 
place  to  Peter.) 

"  How    many    horses  ?  " "  Five  — 

two  working  teams  and  a  fast  driver." 
(Fortunately,  I  knew  Peter's  stable.) 

"Cows?    ..    Calves?"    "Three 

cows — seven  calves."  (I  was  pretty  sure 
of  the  cows,  but  I  had  to  guess  the 
jcalves.) 

"  Jupiter !    You  never  raised  seven  calves 

from  three  cows?  " "  Oh,  yes.    Three 

pair  of  twins — the  odd  one  is  last  year's." 

"  Last   year's !     Thought   you   had   only 

been   farming  two  months?" "Yes, 

but  I  bought  one  calf  with  her  mother." 

"  Three  pair  of  twins  first  season !  Great 
Caesar — what  luck !  What  did  you  pay  for 
the  farm  ?  " "  Six  thousand,  two  hun 
dred  and  fifty." 

"Cash?" "Cash." 

6? 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

"  The  devil !  You  must  be  well  fixed?  " 
"Oh,— so,  so." 

"  How'd  you  make  it?  " "  Emperor 

stock." 

"  Emperor !  You  must  have  been  in  on 
the  ground  floor?  " "  Ground  floor." 

"  Oh  Lord !  How  many  men  do  you 
keep?" "Just  one." 

"  What  do  you  have  to  pay  him  ?  " 

"  Three  hundred  a  year." 

"  Must  be  a  nice  place  for  children.  How 

many  have  you?" "Five."  (This 

was  theoretically  correct.  Paul  had  invent 
ed  two  sisters  and  two  brothers,  all  invisi 
ble,  to  play  with.  A  man's  family  should 
be  screened  from  publicity,  and  this  reply 
seemed  to  make  Paul  strictly  impersonal. 
He  did  not  ask  me  how  many  wives  I  had.) 

Now  I  looked  upon  this  person  as  a  man 
whom  I  would  never  meet  again,  never  hav 
ing  met  him  before,  and  I  parted  from  him 
with  joy  after  having  answered  every  ques 
tion  that  he  asked  to  his  satisfaction,  also 
to  my  own.  I  did  not  dream  of  entering  a 
maze  that  would  exhaust  my  ingenuity  to 
find  my  way  out  of  without  ignominiously 
68 


The  Education  of  Griggs 

crying  for  help.  But  before  I  was  done 
with  Griggs  I  recalled  many  things  of  which 
I  had  never  seen  the  full  significance  be 
fore.  One  was  a  tract  I  had  read  in  my 
youth  entitled,  "  The  First  False  Step." 
Another  was  a  remark  that  Marion  had 
once  made  in  anger :  that  I  would  say  any 
thing,  without  regard  to  veracity  or  the  im 
mediate  future,  to  avoid  unpleasantness.  I 
had  got  her  to  retract  the  assertion  to  a  cer 
tain  extent  by  professing  to  be  deeply 
wounded,  as  indeed  I  was,  but  I  saw  now 
that  she  knew  me  better  than  I  knew  my 
self. 

Two  days  later,  on  my  next  trip  to  the 
city,  I  found  Griggs  awaiting  me  in  my  of 
fice.  "  Hello,  old  man !  "  he  exclaimed  en 
thusiastically.  "  I  haven't  been  able  to  sleep 
since  I  saw  you — can't  think  of  anything 
but  getting  out  to  see  your  farm.  Why, 
Carton,  what's — what  the  dev  " — 

"  Stand  back,"  I  cried  warningly,  with 
averted  face  and  outstretched  arm — "  keep 
well  away!  I'm — I'm  in  trouble.  My 
boy — my  boy — "  I  sank  into  my  chair 
and  covered  my  face  with  my  hands. 
69 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

Griggs  staggered  back.  "  Which  one?  " 
he  gasped. 

"  Which — oh, — ah — Andrew,"  I  answered 
despairingly.  "  He  broke  out  last  night — 
I'm  afraid  it's — "  I  bowed  my  head. 

"  It's  what?  "  demanded  Griggs,  moving 
rapidly  away. 

"  Scarlet  fever,"  I  groaned. 

Griggs  vanished.  "  Say,  Carton,"  he 
called  out,  from  the  other  side  of  the  door, 
"  awfully  sorry.  Other  kids  all  safe?  " 

I  laughed — a  hard  metallic  laugh — I 
knew  it  sounded  like  that,  for  I  seemed  to 
stand  off  and  listen.  Griggs  didn't  wait  to 
hear  more.  "  Hell !  "  he  ejaculated,  and  his 
heavy  footsteps  pounded  the  stairs. 

I  thought  that  was  the  last  of  Griggs.  It 
was — for  nearly  two  months.  By  that  time 
my  point  of  view  had  changed,  as  the  dan 
ger  of  complications  receded,  so  that  I 
sometimes  found  myself  chuckling  over  the 
clever  way  in  which  I  had  managed  to  rid 
myself  of  an  insufferable  bore.  I  did  not 
mention  the  matter  to  Marion,  for  I  well 
knew  that  in  some  things  she  was  incapable 
70 


The  Education  of  Griggs 

of  judicial  consideration,  without  regard  to 
qualifying  circumstances;  then,  reasoning 
and  argument  availed  not.  An  act,  she  in 
sists,  is  either  right  or  wrong,  therefore  it 
is  useless  to  juggle  with  words  in  trying  to 
make  out  that  it  is  mostly  right  and  only  a 
little  wrong.  Had  Marion  developed  ar 
tistic  ability,  I  am  sure  it  would  have  been 
in  the  line  of  black  and  white,  while  my 
talent  would  as  surely  have  run  to  color. 
It  is  the  moral  in  a  fable  that  appeals  most 
strongly  to  her ;  it  is  the  fable  itself  that  de 
lights  my  imagination.  A  moral  is  all  very 
well  in  its  place, — like  a  capstone  to  a  tower, 
— but  there  it  should  stay.  To  detach  it  for 
the  purpose  of  concrete  personal  applica 
tion,  I  have  explained  to  Marion,  is  an  out 
rage  on  the  proprieties  of  family  life.  To 
choose  the  moment  when  a  man  is  smarting 
under  the  consciousness  of  error  for  the 
purpose  of  pointing  out  the  folly  of  his  fool 
ishness  is  positively  inhuman.  What,  I 
ask,  would  have  been  the  moral  effect  upon 
the  prodigal  had  his  father  prepared  a  feast 
of  proverbs  instead  of  a  fatted  calf?  This 
question  she  has  never  answered  except  by 
71 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

a  baffling  tight-lipped  smile, — a  smile  that 
convinces  me  of  the  utter  folly  of  hoping 
that  a  woman  will  listen  to  reason.  Yes,  I 
had  good  cause  to  believe  that  mentioning 
the  Griggs  episode  would  lead  to  useless 
discussion. 

It  was  a  warm  day  in  midsummer  when  I 
found  a  note  from  Griggs  in  my  morning 
mail.  He  had  learned  at  the  office  that  I 
was  spending  my  vacation  at  home,  and  he 
concluded  that  all  danger  of  infection  was 
over. 

"...  Now,  old  chap,"  he  wrote,  "  I 
can't  wait  any  longer;  I've  got  to  have  a 
look  at  your  place.  My  wife  has  been  dead 
against  my  buying  a  farm,  but  she  has  given 
in  this  much :  that  if  I  can  find  a  city  man 
who  gets  more  out  of  his  farm  than  he  puts 
into  it,  she'll  let  me  go  ahead.  So  you're 
my  man,  Carton.  I  want  you  to  give  me 
the  tip  in  regard  to  facts  and  figures,  and 
if  you  have  to  dress  them  up  a  bit,  like  the 
Annual  Report  of  a  Loan  and  Investment 
Company,  you  may  do  so,  with  my  blessing. 
I'm  no  good  in  that  line  myself,  but  I'm 
strong  on  a  second-hand  affidavit.  I'll 
72 


The  Education  of  Griggs 

drive  out  on  Thursday  afternoon  to  have  a 
look  around  your  farm,  then  you  can  post 
me  on  details." 

It  was  nine  o'clock  when  I  received  this 
epistle.  Griggs,  I  calculated,  could  not  ar 
rive  before  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  and 
he  would  probably  not  stay  more  than  an 
hour  or  two,  so  as  to  leave  time  to  drive 
back  to  the  city  by  daylight.  The  problem 
that  confronted  me  was  whether  it  would 
be  worse  for  me  to  tell  the  truth  to  Griggs, 
or  to  Marion,  or  to  both,  or  to  risk  the 
probability  of  Marion  learning  it  from 
Griggs,  or  of  the  latter  from  my  wife.  I 
shrank  from  each  solution  in  turn,  and  yet, 
worst  of  all,  was  the  thought  of  being  bur 
dened  any  longer  by  the  secret  of  my  own 
guilt.  I  could  have  made  up  my  mind  to 
confess  to  Marion  had  I  not  been  sure  that 
she  would  insist  upon  Griggs  being  told  the 
instant  he  arrived.  That  thought  hardened 
my  heart.  I  had  gone  too  far  to  retreat; 
Griggs  should  be  deceived  to  the  bitter  end. 

It  was  at  this  stage  of  my  mental  conflict 
that  the  thought  of  confiding  in  Andy 
Taylor  came  to  me  as  a  sudden  inspiration. 
73 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

That  dear  old  soul,  I  felt  sure,  would  take 
a  positive  delight  in  helping  me  out  of  this 
difficulty;  indeed,  I  thought  of  borrowing 
his  farm  for  the  afternoon,  until  a  better 
plan  presented  itself.  I  couldn't  see  the 
humorous  side  of  the  matter  very  clearly 
just  then,  but  I  knew  Andy  would.  He  did. 
I  found  him  hoeing  his  corn,  but  he  will 
ingly  left  his  work  and  sat  down  in  a  shady 
spot  with  me  to  listen  to  my  tale.  I  did  not 
attempt  to  excuse  myself;  in  fact,  I  was 
rather  more  severe  in  my  self-condemna 
tion  than  I  thought  the  circumstances  war 
ranted.  I  wanted  sympathy  and  encour 
agement  ;  I  wanted  to  be  assured  that  I 
wasn't  as  miserable  a  sinner  as  I  declared 
myself  to  be ;  and  I  knew  that,  in  dealing 
with  Marion,  the  way  to  get  what  I  yearned 
for  was  to  assume  the  most  abject  repent 
ance.  But  my  serious  air  failed  to  impress 
Andy,  for  he  was  so  delighted  with  the 
humor  of  the  situation  that,  at  first,  he  gave 
himself  up  to  unrestrained  merriment.  I 
had  to  paint  my  despair  still  more  vividly 
before  he  subsided  into  helpful  contempla 
tion. 

74 


The  Education  of  Griggs 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Carton  "—I 
winced  at  the  word,  and  at  the  wink  that 
accompanied  it — "  I  think  it's  a  darn  good 
joke."  He  stopped  to  laugh  once  more, 
and  I  permitted  a  sorrowful  smile  to  steal 
over  my  face.  "  And  as  for  my  opinion  of 
your  conduct,"  he  went  on,  "  I  believe 
you're  jest  a  nateral-born  play-actor."  I 
started  in  surprise,  for  this  was  not  the  kind 
of  consolation  I  had  expected.  "  That 
bein'  the  case,"  he  concluded,  "  you  ain't  no 
ways  blamable." 

"  Why,  how  do  you  make  that  out?  "  I 
asked,  trying  to  conceal  my  elation. 

"  You  done  it,"  he  answered,  chewing  a 
piece  of  June  grass  meditatively,  with  his 
eyes  half-closed,  "  as  innocent  as  that  little 
boy  of  yourn  when  he  makes  believe  he  has 
all  them  brothers  and  sisters.  You  ain't 
got  all  the  live-stock  that  you  described,  but 
you  want  'em  so  bad  that  your  imagination 
sort  of  got  a  cinch  on  your  judgment." 

I  grasped  his  hand  in  speechless  grati 
tude, — not  only  for  the  charitable  view  he 
took  of  my  conduct,  but  also  that  he  had 
pointed  out  the  way  to  disarm  Marion's 
75 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

criticism  when  the  time  came  for  me  to  con 
fess  my  misdeeds.  I  looked  at  my  watch. 
In  three  or  four  hours  Griggs  would  ap 
pear  ;  there  was  no  time  to  lose. 

"  Mr.  Taylor,"  I  said,  hesitatingly,  not 
knowing  just  how  to  broach  my  plan,  "  hav 
ing  gone  so  far,  I — I  don't  quite  see  my  way 
clear,  except — by  going  a  little  farther." 

Andy  nodded  in  perfect  comprehension. 
"  See  that  strip  of  tamarac  swamp  over 
there  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Well,  it  ain't  no  more'n 
half  a  mile  wide,  and  it'd  come  nateral  to 
me  to  cut  through  there  in  a  bee  line,  but 
if  you  was  to  try,  the  chances  is  that  every 
bit  of  it  would  look  like  every  other  bit, 
and  you'd  be  glad  to  git  out  even  on  the 
side  you  started  in  on." 

"  I  would,"  I  admitted.  "  If  I  could  only 
start  afresh !  " 

Andy  chuckled  again.  "  Well,"  he  said, 
with  hearty  encouragement,  "  I'm  prepared 
to  holler  round  the  edge,  or  go  in  to  look 
you  up,  or  anything  you  say.  Now,  what's 
your  scheme?  " 

"  It  struck  me,"  I  replied,  casting  aside 
my  embarrassment,  "  that  perhaps  you 
76 


The  Education  of  Griggs 

wouldn't  mind  lending  me  some  stage  fur 
niture  for  the  afternoon."  I  enumerated  the 
required  number  of  horses,  cattle,  hogs,  and 
sheep. 

Andy  laughed  in  glee,  then  he  shook  his 
head  in  assumed  solemnity.  "  No,  Mr.  Car 
ton,"  he  said,  "  I  couldn't  do  that,  but  I'll 
give  'em  to  you  outright ;  then,  if  you  like, 
you  can  give  'em  back  to  me  in  the  even- 
in'." 

I  was  touched  by  his  evident  desire  to 
save  me  from  any  unnecessary  perversion 
of  the  truth,  but  I  assured  him  that  Griggs 
would  not  think  of  asking  me  if  the  animals 
he  saw  on  my  place  were  my  own ;  besides, 
I  would  feel  overwhelmed  by  the  munifi 
cence  of  this  temporary  gift.  But  Andy 
was  obdurate,  so  I  let  him  have  his  way. 
There  was  just  one  other  difficulty — that 
of  getting  my  wife  away  from  Waydean  for 
the  afternoon,  but  that  was  easily  arranged. 
I  remembered  that  she  was  in  the  first  stage 
of  the  rag-carpet  fever,  and  had  announced 
her  intention  of  getting  Mrs.  Taylor  to  in 
struct  her  in  the  art,  so  when  Andy  brought 
me  into  the  house  to  have  a  drink  of  fresh 
77 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

buttermilk,  I  had  only  to  hint  at  Marion's 
desire  to  learn  in  order  to  secure  a  pressing 
invitation  from  Mrs.  Taylor  to  bring  her 
over  in  the  afternoon. 

Andy  accompanied  me  to  the  gate.  "  Mr. 
Carton,  keep  up  your  spirits,"  he  said  en 
couragingly,  in  parting,  "  and  everything 
will  go  all  right.  You  needn't  feel  nervous 
about  your  wife  gittin'  back  too  soon,  for 
when  two  women  gits  started  rag-carpetin' 
they  don't  remember  they've  got  husbands 
until  on  about  supper-time.  When  they 
settle  down  we'll  drive  the  stock  over  and 
arrange  them  to  look  nateral.  I  was  goin' 
to  wash  my  buggy  this  afternoon,  and  I 
was  thinkin'  I  might  as  well  do  it  over 
there.  I  ain't  had  no  experience  of  play- 
actin',  but  you  need  someone  to  look  like  a 
hired  man,  and  I  guess  I  could  do  that." 

I  had  thought  of  the  hired  man  problem, 
and  the  same  idea  had  occurred  to  me,  but 
I  knew  it  wasn't  my  place  to  make  the  sug 
gestion.  "  No,  Mr.  Taylor,"  I  replied ;  "  I 
couldn't  think  of  letting  you  take  such  a 
menial  part.  I'd  rather  give  up  the  per 
formance — "  I  wilted  suddenly  at  his  look 
78 


The  Education  of  Griggs 

of  sceptical  amusement — "  unless,"  I  added, 
"  you  would  really  like  to  do  it." 

"  I  really  would,"  he  responded,  with  a 
broad  smile. 

Griggs  came.  To  my  amazement,  he 
asked  no  questions,  at  first.  He  had  a  busi 
ness-like,  preoccupied  air,  as  if  he  were  a 
bailiff  preparing  an  inventory  for  a  bill-of- 
sale,  and  he  looked  at  me,  I  fancied,  as  if 
he  suspected  I  had  hastily  hidden  some  of 
the  effects  that  might  legally  be  attached. 
He  scarcely  noticed  Peter's  growing  crops, 
but  he  studied  the  domestic  animals  intent 
ly,  jotting  down  memoranda  in  his  note 
book.  The  inspection  evidently  satisfied 
him  that  they  were  not  stuffed,  although  in 
their  unfamiliar  surroundings  the  cattle 
wore  a  strained  and  unnatural  expression, 
as  if  they  thought  he  was  an  amateur 
photographer,  and  feared  they  might  not  be 
taken  full  face.  His  manner  exasperated 
me,  but  I  managed  to  treat  him  politely, 
even  when  he  remarked  that  my  hired  man 
was  a  rum-looking  old  coon  and  that  the 
horses  needed  grooming. 
79 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

Suddenly  he  shut  his  note-book  with  a 
snap.  "  Carton,"  he  burst  forth,  "  I've  been 
taken  in !  " 

"  Taken — in  ?  "  I  ejaculated.  He  had  an 
equine  cast  of  countenance,  and  his  eyes 
rolled  in  such  a  vicious  way  that  I  instinct 
ively  moved  directly  in  front,  looking  at 
him  fixedly.  My  surprise  was  not  assumed. 

"  Duped  —  bamboozled  —  hoodwinked  ! " 
he  snorted. 

I  grew  pale  with  rage.  I  knew  I  did, 
though  I  could  not  see  myself.  My  eyes 
flashed ;  I  could  feel  them  flashing.  I  would 
have  given  five  dollars  to  see  their  scin 
tillations  in  a  mirror.  I  drew  myself  up 
to  more  than  my  full  height — thank 
Heaven,  I  could  at  least  see  myself  elon 
gate  !  Andy  Taylor,  standing  beside  his 
buggy  with  a  sopping  sponge  in  one  hand, 
his  mouth  hanging  open  and  his  reddish 
side-whiskers  floating  in  the  breeze,  sud 
denly  turned  his  back  and  hugged  himself, 
his  shoulders  heaving  in  silent  spasmodic 
convulsions. 

"  Mr.  Griggs,"  I  said  icily,  my  tone,  I 
was  pleased  to  hear,  as  pale  and  frosty  as  a 
80 


The  Education  of  Griggs 

shaft  of  the  aurora  borealis,  "  what  do  you 
mean?  " 

"  What  do  I  mean  ?  "  he  shouted.  "  I 
mean  that  I'll  pay  Harold  Jones  back  for 
this — I'll  teach  him  not  to  run  a  rig  on 
me!" 

"  Harold — Jones  ?  "  I  queried  vacantly. 

Griggs  burst  into  a  laugh  that  sounded 
like  a  horse's  neigh.  "  Brace  up,  old  man," 
he  adjured  me,  slapping  me  on  the  back. 
"  You  don't  seem  to  get  on  to  my  meaning, 
but  you  don't  need  to  look  like  an  idiot. 
I'll  tell  you  the  whole  business." 

Briefly,  it  seemed,  he  had  happened  to 
meet  my  friend  Harold  that  day,  and  had 
mentioned  his  proposed  visit  to  my  farm ; 
incidentally,  a  warm  discussion  had  arisen. 
Harold  had  been  convulsed  with  merriment 
at  Griggs's  conception  of  the  extensive 
scope  of  my  farming  operations.  When 
Griggs  adduced  his  conversation  with  me  as 
evidence  Harold  had  laughed  still  more  up 
roariously,  declaring  it  was  the  best  joke  he 
ever  heard — further,  that  my  live-stock 
consisted  of  five  old  hens  and  some  chick 
ens.  Griggs  knew  Harold  to  be  fond  of 
81 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

joking,  but  had,  reluctantly,  believed  him. 
He  had  not  expected,  he  admitted,  to  see 
such  a  well-stocked  farm. 

"  In  other  words,"  I  said,  with  some  heat, 
"  you  expected  to  find  that  I  " 

"  Hold  up !  "  interrupted  Griggs  hastily. 
"  You  see,  Carton,  I  was  mad  at  the  thought 
of  having  been  made  a  fool  of.  I  can  un 
derstand  a  fellow  lying  on  a  business  deal, 
when  it's  to  his  interest,  but  to  sit  down  and 
lie  cold-bloodedly,  just  for  recreation, 
like  "— 

"  Like  whom  ?  "  I  demanded  wrathfully, 
as  he  paused. 

"  Like  that  brute  Jones,"  answered 
Griggs,  with  a  vicious  jerk  of  his  head. 
"  I'll  get  back  on  him,  you  bet !  " 

I  began  to  see  daylight.  "  Come  away 
up  to  the  house  and  we'll  have  a  little  re 
freshment,"  I  said,  with  hospitable  zeal. 

Griggs  brightened.  It  was  a  warm  day, 
so  I  brought  him  around  to  the  south  ve 
randa,  but  I  would  have  entertained  him 
anywhere  else  had  I  remembered  that  Paul 
was  there.  He  was  curled  up  in  a  chair, 
absorbed  in  a  book.  I  knew  he  was  obliv- 
82 


The  Education  of  Griggs 

ious  of  what  had  been  going  on,  but  there 
is  never  any  certainty  of  what  Paul  may,  or 
may  not,  say,  and  I  felt  a  qualm  of  misgiv 
ing.  Griggs  proceeded  to  attract  his 
attention  by  snapping  his  fingers,  as  if  the 
boy  were  a  puppy  or  an  infant,  remarking, 
to  me,  that  he  was  wondering  where  I  kept 
the  kids.  Now  Paul  is  not  shy,  but  we 
never  could  induce  him  to  notice  a  stran 
ger's  advances  without  being  formally  in 
troduced,  consequently,  ff  his  mind  is 
suddenly  withdrawn  from  his  imaginary 
world,  he  looks  shy;  worse,  he  looks  as  if 
he  were  unseeing,  deaf,  and  an  idiot.  My 
mind  was  preoccupied,  or  I  would  have 
avoided  difficulties  by  introducing  Griggs, 
but  I  unfortunately  neglected  that  formal 
ity.  Paul's  stolid  and  incurious  gaze  rested 
on  my  visitor;  I  looked  on  spellbound, 
knowing  that  his  mind  was  working  with 
intensity,  and  that  something  was  coming; 
Griggs  shuffled  uneasily. 

"  Well,  sonny,"  said  Griggs,  at  last, 
"  what  do  you  think  of  me?  " 

I  have  watched  a  toad  sit  motionless 
waiting  for  a  fly  to  come  within  reach  with 
83 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

exactly  Paul's  expression.  I  noticed  that 
his  eyelids  didn't  even  blink.  Griggs 
glanced  at  me ;  I  felt,  rather  than  saw,  the 
patronizing  condolence  of  his  look.  It  is 
the  look  of  the  proud  father  who  raises  chil 
dren  guaranteed  to  fit  ready-made  clothing. 

"  Paul,"  I  prompted,  with  pregnant 
meaning,  "why  don't  you  answer?  What 
do  you  think  of  this  gentleman  ?  " 

"  I  think,  father,"  he  answered,  in  his 
dreamy,  deliberate  tone,  addressing  me 
pointedly,  but  still  looking  at  Griggs,  "  that 
he  looks  like  a  horse." 

I  felt  as  if  I  were  falling  from  a  dizzy 
height,  but  the  sensation  was  not  altogether 
painful.  Griggs  bore  up  better  than  I  could 
have  hoped,  and  declared  with  an  attempt 
at  jocularity  that  he  would  rather  look  like 
a  horse  than  a  cow.  I  had  no  more  pres 
ence  of  mind  than  to  reprove  Paul  on  the 
spot  for  his  rudeness,  a  course  which  could 
only  result  in  one  of  two  things :  a  howl  or 
an  argument.  This  time  it  was  an  argu 
ment  ;  but  I  could  better  have  stood  a  howl, 
for  he  pointed  out  that  his  mother  had 

taught  him  to  always  tell  the  truth,  and 

84 


The  Education  of  Griggs 

"  That  will  do,  Paul,"  I  interrupted,  hur 
riedly.  "  Stand  up,  and  I'll  introduce  you 
to  Mr.  Griggs." 

I  left  them  to  entertain  each  other,  while 
I  escaped  into  the  house  for  the  refresh 
ments.  Had  I  not  done  so,  nothing  could 
have  warded  off  an  indignant  dissertation 
from  Paul  on  the  difference  he  was  careful 
to  observe  between  stating  actual  facts  that 
came  under  his  observation  and  his  habit 
of  making  up  fictitious  persons  and  events. 
The  latter  propensity  we  never  checked,  be 
lieving  that  nothing  should  be  said  to 
prevent  the  fullest  development  of  his  won 
derful  imagination.  My  own  excursions  in 
the  realm  of  undiluted  fiction  were  trifling 
in  comparison  to  Paul's ;  before  him,  doubt 
less,  lay  a  future  with  his  pen  beside  which 
even  mine  must  pale  to  insignificance. 

The  room  I  was  in  opened  upon  the 
veranda.  Paul  was  sitting  beside  the  win 
dow,  and  I  could  hear  his  voice  distinctly, 
but  only  the  alternate  interrogatory  rumble 
of  his  companion's.  Evidently  Griggs  was 
making  the  most  of  his  opportunity  to  learn 
more  of  my  domestic  concerns. 
35 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

"Oh,  he's  all  right,"  I  heard  Paul  an 
nounce.  "  He  was  only  playing  sick  to  get 
out  of  working.  Father  said  it  wasn't 
worth  while  to  send  for  the  doctor,  and  we 
shut  him  up  in  the  barn  so  that  the  others 
wouldn't  take  it.  We  didn't  let  him  out  till 
he  said  he  was  quite  well  thank-you." 

"  They're  all  half-brothers  and  half- 
sisters.  Not  of  any  consequence,  you  know 
— just  to  amuse  me." 

"  Father  said  he  guessed  he'd  send  them 
to  the  Orphan's  Home  ;  he  couldn't  afford 
to  feed  such  a  large  family.  Then  he  said 
he'd  let  me  keep  them  if  I  made  them  work 
hard  for  their  board.  I  can  tell  you  I  keep 
them  going." 

"  Father  says  he  cares  more  for  me  than 
for  the  whole  crowd,  and  that  he  shouldn't 
be  expected  to  bring  up  step-children." 

"  Yes,  I  let  them  play  for  an  hour  on  Sat 
urdays." 

"  They're  all  out  picking  potato  bugs  ex 
cept  Tom.  He's  in  jail." 

"  Up  in  the  attic.  He  stole  a  candy  out 
of  my  box,  and  I  locked  him  up  for  a  week. 
He  gets  bread  and  water  only  once  a  day." 
86 


The  Education  of  Griggs 

"  They  each  have  to  bring  a  full  pail  of 
bugs,  or  else  they  don't  get  any  tea." 

"  Father  says  he'll  have  Tom  put  in  the 
Reformatory  if  I  say  the  word." 

What  further  information  Griggs  gleaned 
I  had  no  means  of  knowing,  for  Paul  was 
doing  so  well  that  I  thought  it  better  not  to 
interrupt  the  conversation,  and  I  took  the 
opportunity  of  having  a  brief  talk  with 
Andy  Taylor  before  returning  to  the  veran 
da.  Griggs  was  obviously  distraught  and 
had  little  to  say  except  that  he  was  in  a 
hurry  to  get  back  to  the  city,  but  he  looked 
at  me  as  if  he  were  mentally  formulating 
charges  to  lay  before  the  Society  for  the 
Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Children.  He  was 
so  engrossed  in  his  thoughts  that  he  neg 
lected  to  thank  me  for  holding  the  gate  open 
as  he  drove  through,  then  I  had  difficulty  in 
impressing  upon  his  mind  what  he  should 
say  to  Harold  Jones. 

"  Tell  him,"  I  concluded,  holding  the 
horse's  head,  "  that  I  consider  it  an  imperti 
nence  for  a  mere  acquaintance  to  pry  into 
my  private  affairs.  Is  it  anyone's  business 
but  my  own,  Mr.  Griggs,  whether  I  keep 
87 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

only  a  few  fowls  or  a  large  assortment  of 
domestic  animals?  Tell  him  that  I  would 
never  dream  of  asking  you  how  many  fir 
kins  of  butter  and  crates  of  eggs  you 
handled  in  a  year,  or  if  your  profits  exceed 

the  commission  you ' 

"  G'lang  there !  "  shouted  Griggs. 


88 


V, 

PAUL  AND  THE  CHICKENS 

"  T  HAVE  no  fancy  for  the  country,  as 
1  you  know,  my  dear  Marion,"  wrote 
Aunt  Sophy,  in  conclusion,  "  but  your  de 
scription  of  Waydean  makes  me  long  to 
accept  your  invitation.  When  I  heard  that 
Henry  had  rented  a  farm  I  thought  you 
must  be  simply  crazy  to  let  him  do  it,  but 
your  letter  has  reassured  me.  Of  course,  if 
he  has  quite  determined  not  to  go  to  any 
expense  in  the  expectation  of  making 
money  out  of  the  land,  and  if  you  both  want 
to  live  there,  it  is  a  different  thing.  I  think 
it  is  a  splendid  idea  not  to  work  any  more 
land  than  he  can  attend  to  with  a  spade,  a 
rake  and  a  hoe.  Take  my  advice,  Marion, 
and  keep  him  to  that — no  matter  what 
arguments  he  may  use — and  you  will  be 
perfectly  safe.  If  your  poor  uncle  had  only 
been  guided  by  my  advice,  or  if  I  had  been 
89 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

less  easily  swayed  by  his  hopefulness,  I 
would  have  had  more  than  a  pittance  to  live 
on  now.  But  no, — it  was  buy  this,  and  buy 
that,  till  .  .  . 

"  How  lovely  it  must  be  to  have  your  own 
milk  and  butter  and  cream  and  fruit, 
and,  above  all,  to  know  that  they're  clean! 
And  the  chickens !  Do  you  know,  I  can't 
touch  chickens  in  the  city ;  I  haven't  tasted 
one  for  a  year,  I  am  so  disgusted  at  the 
thought  of  how  they  may  be  fed, — and  yet 
I  am  just  longing  for  a  taste  of  plump, 
clean,  .  .  .  grain-fed " 

Marion's  voice  wavered ;  she  stopped 
reading.  I  uttered  a  prolonged  whistle, 
then  laughed  in  a  hollow  mirthless  tone 
that  brought  a  responsive  gleam  to  Mar 
ion's  worried  face.  She  left  the  breakfast 
table  and  looked  anxiously  out  of  the  win 
dow  at  the  back  of  the  room,  then  sat  down 
again  with  a  sigh  of  thankfulness. 

"  What  a  mercy  Paul  wasn't  within  hear 
ing,"  she  said ;  "  how  he  would  have 
howled!" 

I  went  to  the  window.     Paul  was  sur 
rounded  by  our  flock  of  twenty-seven  half- 
90 


Paul  and  the  Chickens 

grown  chickens  and  five  hens.  In  one  hand 
he  held  his  little  tin  pail  of  corn ;  with  the 
other  he  dealt  out  one  grain  at  a  time  to 
each  in  turn,  calling  the  fowl  by  name  and 
reproving  those  that  tried  to  snatch  the  oth 
ers'  share.  "  Jeremiah,  here's  yours — come 
along  Aunt  Noddy,"  I  heard  him  say 
coaxingly. 

I  sat  down  again  and  stared  at  Marion 
hopelessly ;  she  responded  with  a  gaze  of 
mute  despair ;  then  we  both  studied  the 
tablecloth  without  speaking,  feeling  that  the 
skeleton  we  had  ignored  for  months  had  at 
last  stalked  unbidden  from  the  closet. 

As  I  thought  the  matter  over  I  could  see 
that  Marion  was  entirely  to  blame  for  this 
hopeless  complication.  If  she  had  allowed 
me  to  get  eggs  from  pure-bred  stock  for 
setting  we  would  have  had  twenty-seven 
chickens  of  exactly  similar  appearance  that 
Paul  never  could  have  individualized,  never 
have  named,  never  have  loved  with  the  pas 
sionate  fervor  that  he  bestowed  on  each  one 
of  the  variegated  specimens  hatched  from 
eggs  at  ten  cents  a  dozen.  My  eggs,  I  com 
puted,  would  have  cost  not  more  than  five 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

dollars ;  so  in  order  to  save  four  dollars 
and  a  half,  Marion  had  saddled  us  with  a 
flock  as  unapproachable  from  a  culinary 
stand-point  as  so  many  sacred  cows.  This 
conclusion  presented  itself  with  such  clear 
ness  that  I  was  on  the  point  of  submitting  it 
to  Marion  when  I  remembered  how  un 
pleasant  it  was  to  me  to  listen  to  wholesome 
truths,  so  I  merely  looked  unselfish  and 
hummed  thoughtfully. 

My  wife  regarded  me  with  suspicion,  her 
frown  deepening.  "  I  have  asked  you  re 
peatedly,"  she  said,  with  frosty  distinctness, 
"  not  to  hum,  and  not  to  look  like  that." 

My  complaisance  vanished.  I  am  not 
easily  irritated,  and  I  try  to  avoid  answer 
ing  back,  but  I  cannot  stand  being  told  not 
to  look  like  that. 

"  Marion,"  I  retorted,  "  I  don't  wonder 
you  feel  annoyed,  but  you  may  as  well  face 
the  difficulty  now.  I'm  tired  of  people  ask 
ing  me  how  we  like  living  in  the  country, 
and  then  remarking  that  it  must  be  fine 
to  have  your  own  chickens.  Of  course,  I'm 
willing  to  keep  up  appearances  and  to 
make-believe  that  having  our  own  chickens 
92 


Paul  and  the  Chickens 
« 

is  one  of  our  many  daily  luxuries  ;  but  now 
that  your  Aunt  Sophy  is  coming  we've  got 
to  eat  them,  or  she'll  know  the  reason  why. 
Oh,  yes,  I  know,"  I  added,  as  she  tried  to 
interrupt — "  I  know  we  can't  have  them 
in  the  abstract.  We've  got  to  kill  and  cook 
and  pick  the  bones  of  Abner,  Jeremiah, 
Lucy,  or  some  other  of  the  boy's  pets ;  but 
if  I  had  had  my  way  about  the  eggs  he 
couldn't  have  told  one  from  another,  and 
we  might  have  had  an  occasional  fowl  with 
out  these  painful  personal  associations." 

I  regretted  my  rashness  when  I  saw  Mar 
ion's  look  of  calm  scorn,  her  manner  lead 
ing  me  to  expect  a  revival  of  some  of  my 
mistakes.  I  can  evolve  plausible  theories, 
but  she  usually  shatters  them  with  the  most 
distracting  personal  applications. 

"  I  hadn't  intended  to  point  out  that  you 
are  responsible,"  she  said,  "  but  since  you 
are  so  unjust  as  to  try  to  blame  me,  I  must 
do  so.  Don't  you  see,  Henry,  that  it  is  but 
another  instance  of  your  habit  of  evading 
unpleasant  duties.  I  have  told  you  re 
peatedly  " — I  squirmed  in  protest,  for  I  do 
hate  that  phrase,  and  I  knew  so  well  what 
93 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

was  coming — "  that  you  would  say  any 
thing  to  tide  over  a  disagreeable  scene, — 
and  it's  true." 

"  Honestly,  Marion,"  I  protested,  "  I — I 
wouldn't.  I'd  jump  into  any  kind  of  a 
scrimmage — I'd  do  anything  to  please  you. 
If  you'll  only  be  cheerful  I'll — I'll  see  that 
it  doesn't  happen  " — 

"  There  you  are  again,"  she  interrupted, 
in  a  descending  cadence  of  utter  dejection. 
"  Oh,  dear — it  is  so  hopeless !  Listen, 
Henry,  and  see  if  you  can  understand  this : 
Paul  is  now  six,  and  yet  he  never  knew 
there  was  such  a  thing  as  death  until  last 
month.  You  had  your  way  about  that — 
and  what  was  the  result?  The  child  nearly 
went  crazy  when  his  bantam  hen  died.  If 
you  had  been  at  home,  I  have  no  doubt 
you  would  have  told  him  it  was  asleep,  but 
you  more  than  made  up  for  that  by  assuring 
him  that  it  had  gone  to  heaven." 

"  I  did  nothing  of  the  kind,"  I  protested 
indignantly.  "  Paul  came  to  me  " 

:'  The  child  came  to  me,"  Marion  went 
on  sternly,  "  perfectly  happy  in  the  thought 

of  Bijou  having  gone  " 

94 


Paul  and  the  Chickens 

"  He  came  to  me"  I  insisted,  "  asking  if 
Bijou  had  gone  to  heaven.  I  said  I 
hoped  " 

"  It  doesn't  matter  so  much  what  you 
said  as  the  way  you  said  it.  However,  as 
you  say,  Aunt  Sophy  is  coming,  and  we 
must  eat  some  of  those  chickens ;  so  you 
may  face  the  situation  and  settle  with  Paul. 
If  you  had  explained  to  him  that  chickens 
were  made  to  eat,  as  I  wanted  you  to  do  in 
the  first  place,  you  wouldn't  have  had  this 
trouble  now.  If  I  thought  it  would  be  a 
lesson  to  you  I  could  stand  my  share,  but  I 
know  you'll  forget  all  about  it  in  a  week 
and  be  ready  to  do  the  same  thing  again, 
so  you  may  as  well  take  the  consequences 
alone." 

I  was  preparing  to  ask  for  a  properly  exe 
cuted  death-warrant,  specifying  the  first 
victims  by  name,  but  before  I  could  speak 
my  wife  dived  into  her  pocket  for  a  hand 
kerchief  and  retreated  upstairs. 

I  can  tackle  a  disagreeable  duty  when 

there  is  no  other  course  open  to  me,  but  I 

am  not  upheld,  as  Marion  is,  by  a  strong 

sense  of  righteousness;  indeed,  I  am  in- 

95 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

clined  to  feel  personally  unworthy  to 
attempt  any  good  act  that  is  patently  out  of 
my  line,  yet  on  the  rare  occasions  when 
Marion  behaves  in  this  childish  manner  I 
throw  my  conscientious  scruples  to  the 
winds  in  my  frantic  desire  to  assuage  her 
grief. 


I  found  Paul  teaching  a  hen  and  two 
chickens  to  sit  still  as  he  drew  them  around 
on  his  little  wagon.  My  resolution  wavered 
as  I  watched  his  innocent  enjoyment,  but 
the  thought  of  Aunt  Sophy  spurred  me  on. 
Besides,  if  Marion  was  bloodthirsty  enough 
to  want  these  poor  creatures  eaten,  it  was 
not  for  me  to  feel  faint-hearted. 

"Well,  Paul,"  I  said,  with  spurious  cheer 
fulness,  "giving  them  a  ride?  Are  these 
some — ha,  ha ! — you  want  to  keep  for 
pets  ?  " 

Paul  has  a  quick  ear  for  a  false  note.  He 
studied  my  face  with  grave  wonderment, 
his  earnest  gaze  piercing  my  jocose  mask. 
"  Why,  father,"  he  exclaimed,  "  your  voice 
sounds  so  queer — and  what  a  funny  ques- 
96 


Paul  and  the  Chickens 

tion!     They're  all  pets, — of  course,  I  want 
to  keep  every  one." 

"  Come  and  sit  on  the  bench  beside  me," 
I  said  ingratiatingly,  "  and  we'll  have  a 
talk.  .  .  .  Do  you  know  that — that 
people  sometimes  have  to — that  is,  that 
people  don't  usually  raise  chickens  for 
pets?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,"  he  replied,  nodding 
his  little  head  with  philosophic  certainty. 
"  Most  boys  would  rather  keep  dogs  and 
rabbits,  and  ponies  and  other  animals ;  but 
I  don't  want  anything  for  pets  except  hens 
and  chickens,  and  perhaps — well,  I  think 
I  would  like  a  pair  of  white  pigeons.  I 
heard  you  saying  to  mother  that  I  wasn't 
a  bit  like  other  boys.  Is  that  one  way  I'm 
different?" 

"  It  is,"  I  answered  with  curt  emphasis. 

Paul  snuggled  closer  to  me  and  leaned 
his  head  on  my  shoulder.  "  You  say  that 
as  if  "  —  he  hesitated  shyly  —  "  as  if  you 
wished  I  was  like  other  boys.  Am  I  not  as 
good  ? " 

"  You're  better,  my  boy,  far  better !  "  I 
exclaimed,  in  quick  remorse. 
97 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

This  remark  may  appear  injudicious,  but 
Paul  is  like  me  in  many  ways,  and  there  is 
not  a  shadow  of  vanity  or  self-conscious 
ness  in  his  character ;  no  amount  of  praise, 
or  even  flattery,  could  disturb  the  natural 
equipoise  of  his  self-esteem,  but  he  is  quick 
to  feel  the  hurt  of  unjust  depreciation. 
When  Marion  forgets  my  imperfections  and 
tells  me  I  am  the  best  man  in  the  world,  I  am 
aware  that  she  is  drawing  it  a  little  strong ; 
at  the  same  time,  I  am  strengthened  and 
uplifted  by  her  opinion,  and  I  feel  the  yearn 
ing  to  do  noble  things,  to  be  more  worthy 
of  my  pedestal,  to  attain  that  serenity  of 
temper  which  mortals  name  angelic. 

Paul's  face  brightened,  and  I  knew  that 
I  had  made  amends  for  my  previous  abrupt 
and  jarring  tone.  I  began  again  cautiously, 
taking  care  to  speak  with  soothing  mellow 
ness.  "  I  don't  think  I  ever  heard  of  any 
one  keeping  twenty-seven  chickens  and  five 
hens  for  pets." 

A   merry  light  danced   in   Paul's   eyes. 

"  That's  what  you  said  about  farming  with 

a  spade,  a  rake  and  a  hoe/'  he  reminded 

me,  "  and  mother  said  we  must  do  what 

98 


Paul  and  the  Chickens 

was  right  without  thinking  about  other 
people." 

Chance,  instinct,  or  his  inherited  nimble 
mind  had  enabled  him  to  checkmate  me  as 
neatly  as  Marion  could  have  done  it;  I 
moved  back.  Passing  lightly  over  the  ob- 
jectio-nable  features,  I  briefly  sketched  the 
magnitude  of  the  chicken-raising  industry 
for  supplying  city  markets,  pointing  out  the 
necessity  for  poor  farmers  selling  their 
fowls  to  buy  food  and  clothing.  Despite 
my  care  he  was  visibly  shocked. 

"  No  matter  how  poor  we  were,  you 
would  never  send  our  chickens  to  market?  " 
he  inquired,  breathing  hard. 

There  could  be  but  one  answer  to  that 
question,  and  after  I  had  fervently  dis 
claimed  the  possibility  of  poverty  ever  mak 
ing  me  so  heartless,  each  of  us  remained 
buried  in  his  own  thoughts  for  a  brief  time. 
The  chickens  gathered  around,  and  I  fan 
cied  they  regarded  me  with  intuitive  dread 
in  their  glistening  eyes,  as  if  they  waited  to 
hear  my  next  attempt  to  seal  their  doom. 
An  overgrown  bully  suddenly  pecked  a 
weaker  brother,  pulling  out  a  bunch  of 
99 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

feathers  viciously  as  he  spurned  the  victim 
with  his  feet.  Paul  darted  to  the  rescue  and 
brought  the  brutal  assailant  back  to  the 
bench  a  prisoner. 

"What  is  that  villain's  name,  Paul?"  I 
asked  with  eager  interest. 

"  Why,  this  is  Angelica,"  he  answered. 
"  Don't  you  remember  you  named  him 
yourself  when  he  was  first  hatched  ?  " 

I  did  remember.  He  was  then  a  beautiful 
yellowish  ball  of  fluff,  with  large,  soft,  wide- 
open  eyes,  the  prettiest  one  of  the  brood ; 
now  he  was  grown  into  a  greedy,  swagger 
ing,  insolent  swashbuckler,  proud  of  his 
stature  and  fine  plumage. 

"  He's  a  dangerous  criminal,"  I  said,  feel 
ing  his  plump  breast  appreciatively,  "  and 
it  might  be  better  to — to  " — somehow  the 
word  stuck  in  my  throat ;  I  hesitated. 

"  I  know,  father,"  cried  Paul  joyfully. 
"  I'm  the  policeman  and  you're  the  judge 
— he  must  be  tried  and  then  sentenced  to 
wear  a  muzzle." 

Angelica  was  tried  and  sentenced,  then 
muzzled  with  a  small  rubber  band  that  fit 
ted  tightly  over  his  bill.  His  antics  amused 


Paul  and  the  Chickens 

us  so  much  that  for  a  few  minutes  I  forgot 
my  fatal  errand. 

"  He  looks  wicked  enough  to  kill  some 
of  the  others,"  I  remarked,  after  a  pause. 
"  Do  you  know,  Paul,  how  a  person  who 
kills  another  is  punished?  "  He  looked  up 
with  sudden,  awed  interest.  "  They  put  a 
rope  around — him,  and — and  " 

"And  what?" 

" fine  him  a  dollar  and  costs." 

"  Oh !  "  he  gasped,  "  I'm  so  glad  that's 
all.  And  do  they  take  the  rope  off  after 
wards  ? " 

"  I  believe  they  do,"  I  replied,  in  deep  de 
jection. 

"  Father,  I  just  love  chickens.  Don't 
you?" 

"  I  do,  indeed,"  I  affirmed,  with  sudden 
reckless,  despairing  intention  ;  "  but  I  love 
them  in  two  different  ways.  If  they're  nice, 
well-mannered  birds  I  love  to  see  them 
running  about  with  their  feathers  on;  but 
if  they're  naughty  I  love  to  see  them  not 
running  about  with  their  feathers  off."  Paul 
laughed  in  glee.  "  Your  mother  and  Aunt 
Sophy  like  them  too,"  I  went  on  warily, 
101 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

my  heart  thumping;  "  and  I  think  if  chick 
ens  are  cruel  and  bad  they  deserve  to  be 
stuffed  " — his  expression  changed  sudden 
ly,  but  he  still  looked  bravely  into  my  eyes 

•"  with  bread-crumbs,  and  roasted,  with 
thick — brown — rich — gravy." 

Paul  jerked  his  little  hand  from  mine  and 
stood  up  in  front  of  me,  his  face  twitching 
and  his  eyes  brimming.  "  You  greedy — 
greedy — GREEDY  !  "  he  gasped. 

"  Paul, — my  boy, — listen,"  I  implored  ; 
"  your  aunt  Sophy  is  coming,  and  she's  aw 
fully  fond  " 

My  words  were  lost  in  a  prolonged  howl. 
He  had  a  phenomenal  voice,  but  this  de 
layed  howl  eclipsed  all  previous  ones.  I 
followed  him  in  frantic  haste,  eager  to  for 
swear  all  designs  on  his  pets,  but  he 
fled  as  if  I  were  after  his  scalp.  When  I 
finally  found  him,  too  late,  he  was  in  his 
mother's  arms,  and  I  knew  she  had  prom 
ised  him  everything,  from  the  look  she 
turned  on  me, — a  look  that  caused  me  to 
slink  silently  away,  a  soulless  brute,  and 
alas ! — a  tailless  one. 


102 


Paul  and  the  Chickens 

"  Henry,"  said  Aunt  Sophy,  compla 
cently,  as  I  drove  her  to  the  station  after 
her  visit,  "  in  all  the  time  my  husband  had 
his  farm  I  never  could  get  him  to  use  our 
own  chickens.  He  said  they  cost  him  two 
dollars  apiece,  being  from  thoroughbred 
stock,  but  I  see  you  have  more  sense  and 
raise  good  plain  barnyard  fowls  that  you 
can  eat  every  day  if  you  want  to.  Why,  we 
must  have  had  them  three  times  a  week 
while  I've  been  here,  and  you  seem  to  have 
a  good  large  flock  yet.  I've  tried  a  dozen 
times  to  count  them,  but  they  always  went 
criss-cross.  How  many  have  you  got 
left?" 

"  Just  twenty-seven,"  I  answered,  strok 
ing  my  mustache  with  modest  pride. 


103 


VI 


1DID  not  approve  of  Marion's  habit  of 
keeping-  accounts  at  Waydean.  There 
was  always  a  missing  balance,  but  I  never 
could  get  her  to  see  what  a  needless  worry 
and  waste  of  time  it  was  to  try  to  locate  it, 
or  how  much  better  it  is  to  take  my  plan 
and  merely  count  the  cash  on  hand  to  settle 
one's  financial  standing.  It  is  diverting  to 
me  to  calculate  future  hypothetical  receipts 
and  expenditures,  but  it  is  the  reverse  of 
entertaining  to  look  backwards  at  the  irrev 
ocable  past,  the  past  that  is  called  back  by 
various  carefully  entered  items  in  Marion's 
account  book,  prominent  among  which 
looms  payment  of  three  hundred  dollars  for 
Emperor  mining  shares. 

It  was  one  evening  while  I  was  engaged 

in  preparing  my  weekly  agricultural  page 

for  the  Observer,  and  Marion  was  poring 

over  her  account  book  that  she  suddenly 

104 


A  Cow  and  a  Calf 

dropped  her  pencil  and  exclaimed :  "  Hen- 
ry!" 

"  Well  ?  "  I  asked,  with  meek  resigna 
tion,  my  brain  beginning  to  stiffen,  for  I 
judged  from  her  tone  that  she  had  arrived 
at  some  miraculous  result  in  figures. 

"  We've  been  living  in  the  country  four 
months,"  she  said  impressively,  "  and  what 
do  you  think  I  find?  We've  actually  paid 
more  for  butter  and  milk  and  vegetables 
than  in  any  four  months  while  we  lived  in 
the  city." 

"  How  strange,"  I  commented,  trying  to 
look  interested. 

My  wife  smiled  slightly,  in  a  way  that  I 
find  peculiarly  irritating.  "  You're  only 
pretending  to  listen,"  she  said,  "  and  you 
couldn't  possibly  understand  while  you  look 
like  that." 

My  weariness  vanished ;  I  started  up  in 
dignantly.  "  While  I  look  like  what  ?  "  I 
demanded. 

Marion  laughed.  "  That's  better,"  she 
said.  "  I'd  rather  see  you  look  angry  than 
stupid.  Now  I'll  try  again  to  get  your  at 
tention.  Do  you  remember  what  you  said 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

when  I  gave  you  the  choice  of  a  lawn-mower 
or  a  hammock  for  your  birthday  ?  " 

I  did  remember.  I  had  made  a  swift  cal 
culation  at  the  time  that  a  hammock  would 
be  easier  to  run,  so  I  had  urged  Marion  not 
to  go  to  the  expense  of  a  lawn-mower,  re 
minding  her  also  that  it  might  properly  be 
ranked  among  the  tabooed  farm  imple 
ments. 

"  Certainly,"  I  answered,  at  a  loss  to 
know  what  was  coming,  "  I  said  I  would 
prefer  a  hammock." 

"  And  do  you  remember  that  you  prom 
ised  to  hire  or  borrow  one  of  Peter's  cows 
to  crop  the  grass  on  the  lawn  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  didn't  exactly  promise.  I  said 
it  would  be  easy  enough  to  get  one." 

"  And  now  the  grass  is  as  long  as  hay. 
Why  didn't  you  do  it  ?  " 

I  frowned,  for  I  hate  insistent,  unneces 
sary  questions, — questions  that  are  bound 
to  lead  up  to  some  unpleasant  climax  that 
it  would  be  better  to  avoid.  I  could  stand 
being  thrown  overboard  without  ceremony 
better  than  being  forced  to  walk  the  plank 
with  measured  tread,  yet  if  I  protest  against 
106 


A  Cow  and  a  Calf 

this  Socratic  method  of  arriving  at  conclu 
sions  she  tells  me  with  pained  surprise  that 
it  is  for  my  good, — that  I  should  learn  not 
only  to  regret  my  mistakes,  but  to  thor 
oughly  understand  why  I  am  sorry.  Rather 
than  have  her  say  that,  I  am  willing  to 
answer  any  ordinary  question  with  outward 
docility. 

"  The  plan  didn't  seem  so  feasible  when 
I  thought  it  over,"  I  replied  meekly.  "  It 
would  have  looked  foolish  to  offer  to  pay 
Peter  for  letting  me  feed  his  cow,  and  I 
couldn't  make  up  my  mind  to  borrow  one, 
so  the  time  slipped  away  before " 

"  Of  course  it  did,"  she  interrupted  ;  "  the 
way  it  always  does.  But,  after  all,  I  think  " 
— a  merry  light  danced  in  her  eyes — "  I'll 
forgive  you.  There'll  be  all  the  more  grass 
for, — oh,  dear,  you  do  look  so  funny ! — our 
cow." 

"  Our  cow !  "  I  gasped,  in  stupefaction. 

"  Henry,"  she  burst  forth  excitedly, 
"  I've  been  trying  to  break  it  to  you  gently, 
but  you  don't  seem  to  understand.  I've 
come  round  to  your  way  of  thinking — you 
may  go  and  buy  a  cow  to-morrow." 
107 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

It  was  a  complete  surprise  to  me  that 
Marion  should  be  so  suddenly  seized  by  the 
desire  to  own  a  cow.  For  my  own  part  I 
would  rather  have  started  with  a  herd,  but 
still,  it  was  something  to  be  thankful  for 
that  she  did  not  insist  upon  beginning  with 
a  goat.  Then  there  was  the  possibility  that 
a  cow  might  grow  into  a  herd ;  that  would 
mean  a  hired  man,  horses,  implements,  a 
large  dairy  business,  more  land,  an  ultimate 
fortune.  Yes,  I  was  more  than  gratified 
that  Marion  was  beginning  to  see  that  my 
ideas  on  farm  management  were  sound. 

When  I  asked  our  butcher  the  next  morn 
ing  if  he  knew  of  any  cows  for  sale  in  the 
neighborhood  we  awaited  his  answer  with 
breathless  anxiety.  He  half-closed  his  eyes, 
studying  the  mud  on  the  wagon-wheel  in 
profound  meditation,  our  suspense  intensi 
fied  by  this  dramatic  pause. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'd  do,"  he  said,  at  last, 
pointing  northward  impressively  with  his 
long  knife.  .  "  I'd  go  up  there  on  the  clay 
where  the  pastures  is  dried  up  and  the 
farmers  is  feedin'  hay  at  fifteen  dollars  a  ton, 
and  I'd  buy  a  cow  for  half  what  she  could 
108 


A  Cow  and  a  Calf 

be  bought  for  down  here  where  the  grass 
is  green." 

That  sounded  reasonable,  and  when  he 
proceeded  to  name  some  of  his  customers 
"  on  the  clay,"  I  stopped  him  at  the  name 
Waydean. 

"  Any  relation  of  Peter's  ?  "  I  asked,  with 
sudden  interest. 

"  His  brother,"  he  answered,  with  an  odd 
smile — "  and  it's  a  dead  fright  how  them 
two  men  hate  each  other !  I  believe  Peter'd 
go  clean  off  his  head  if  you  was  to  buy  a 
cow  from  John." 

I  smiled  with  satisfaction.  Peter  had  set 
his  snares  in  vain  in  many  artful  endeavors 
to  sell  me  some  of  his  belongings ;  with 
sunny  smiles  I  had  avoided  giving  him  a 
chance  to  add  to  the  exorbitant  rent  that  I 
paid  him,  and  he  could  scarcely  conceal 
glances  of  sour  disappointment  in  my  pres 
ence.  That  I  should  buy  a  cow  from  any 
one  else  would,  I  knew,  be  pain  to  him  ;  his 
pain  would  not  be  less  if  I  bought  her  from 
his  brother  John. 

"  Well,"  said  the  butcher,  when  I  had  an 
nounced  my  intention  of  having  a  look  at 
109 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

John  Waydean's  cattle,  "  I  pass  within  half 
a  mile  of  his  place  on  my  round,  so  I  can 
give  you  a  lift  if  you  like  to  come  along  with 
me.  Of  course,"  he  added,  taking  a  side 
long  survey  of  me,  "  John  can't  skin  a  man 
quite  so  neat  as  Peter,  but  he's  pretty  sharp 
on  a  bargain,  and  you  want  to  keep  your 
weather  eye  open  when  you  dicker  with 
him.  Know  much  about  cattle  ?  " 

Some  people  can  boast  about  acquire 
ments  they  haven't  got ;  I  cannot.  I  mere 
ly  looked  shrewd  and  modest,  nodding 
slightly  to  the  butcher,  simultaneously  with 
a  faint  movement  of  one  eyelid.  Marion, 
misunderstanding  my  silence,  exclaimed 
confidently :  "  Oh,  he  knows  all  about  that 
sort  of  thing.  He  writes  articles  for  the 
Observer." 

At  this  point  I  disclaimed,  with  becoming 
embarrassment,  all  pretension  to  unusual 
lore,  but  the  butcher  looked  profoundly  im 
pressed  and  delighted. 

"  That's  all  right !  "  he  said  cheerily.  "  I 
know  his  cows  is  mostly  fresh,  but  he's  got 
one  or  two  strippers." 

I  went  into  the  house  to  get  ready  for 
no 


A  Cow  and  a  Calf 

the  trip ;  Marion  followed  me.  "  Henry," 
she  inquired,  in  a  confidential  tone,  "  what 
are  fresh  cows, — and  strippers  ?  " 

It  was  the  very  problem  I  was  wrestling 
with.  If  the  butcher  had  not  been  waiting-, 
and  if  Marion  hadn't  followed  me  so  closely, 
I  would  have  snatched  a  moment  to  consult 
my  books  of  reference,  but  I  had  no  time 
even  to  collect  my  thoughts  properly.  I 
was  in  the  awkward  predicament  of  the 
schoolboy  who  knows  he  knows  the  answer 
to  a  question,  but  somehow  cannot  think  of 
the  words.  I  was  in  a  great  hurry,  but  Mar 
ion  was  so  anxious  for  information  that  I 
did  my  best  to  enlighten  her. 

"  A  fresh  cow,"  I  said,  struggling  into 
my  coat  in  jerks,  "  is  one — in  the  prime — of 
life — and — and  vigor;  a  stripper,  on  the 
contrary,  is  merely — a — a  middle-aged — 
juvenile." 

I  seized  my  hat  and  hurried  away.  As  we 
drove  out  of  the  yard  I  noticed  that  Marion 
was  standing  in  the  kitchen  doorway  gaz 
ing  after  me  with  the  expression  of  one  who 
is  prevented  from  seeing  the  bottom  of  a 
pool  by  the  reflections  on  its  surface.  I 
in 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

waved  her  a  gay  farewell  and  hoped  for  the 
best. 

I  had  a  dim  idea  that  I  could  find  out  in 
directly  during  the  drive  what  the  butcher 
thought  these  terms  meant,  but  I  needed 
all  my  mental  agility  to  make  a  creditable 
appearance  of  understanding  his  voluble 
allusions  to  grades,  stockers,  springers, 
shorthorns,  yearlings,  heifers,  and  numer 
ous  other  varieties  of  cattle.  My  answers 
were  brief  and  guarded,  and  when  I  tot 
tered  I  was  so  swift  to  recover  my  balance 
that  my  errors  were  not  apparent  to  my 
companion.  On  such  occasions  I  may 
sometimes  be  suspected  of  not  being  famil 
iar  with  a  subject,  but  I  would  defy  anyone 
to  prove  my  ignorance.  If  Marion's  repu 
tation  for  veracity  had  not  been  at  stake  I 
might  have  been  willing  to  act  the  part  of 
a  humble  tyro  asking  for  information,  but 
since  she  had  plainly  said  that  I  knew  all 
about  cattle  it  was  my  duty  to  try  to  make 
her  statement  appear  credible. 

I  descended  from  the  wagon  feeling  that 
I  was  utterly  incapable  of  choosing  a  cow, 
but  I  concealed  my  fears  under  a  mask  of 

112 


A  Cow  and  a  Calf 

calm  assurance  as  I  bade  the  butcher  good- 
by. 

"  Mr.  Carton,"  he  said,  in  parting,  "  if  you 
was  a  greenhorn  that  didn't  know  the  dif 
ference  between  a  stocker  and  a  springer, 
like  most  city  men,  I'd  say  to  buy  your  cow 
off  of  some  other  man  than  John  Waydean, 
but  he'll  know  better  than  to  try  to  palm 
off  scrub-stock  onto  you." 

This  cheerful  prediction  almost  made  me 
perspire  with  apprehension,  particularly  as 
scrub-stock  was  a  brand  new  variety  that 
he  had  not  mentioned  previously.  My  con 
fidence  returned,  however,  when  I  stood  in 
John  Waydean's  barnyard  and  saw  his 
cows  paraded  for  my  inspection,  for  no  two 
of  them  were  alike,  and  I  could  tell  at  a 
glance  which  were  Jerseys  and  which  were 
common  cows.  I  took  care  not  to  express 
a  preference  until  I  found  out  which  ones 
their  owner  appeared  most  anxious  to  sell, 
and  these  I  instantly  decided  not  to  buy. 
Even  had  I  not  been  warned  by  the  butcher 
I  would  have  mistrusted  John  Waydean, 
for  his  face  had  not  the  prepossessing  ap 
pearance  of  his  brother's,  and  his  manner 
"3 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

was  surly  and  suspicious.  I  examined  each 
of  the  animals  with  a  critical  air,  ignoring 
his  evident  desire  to  make  me  believe  that 
an  ugly  creature  resembling  a  bison  was  the 
finest  cow,  and  finally  chose  a  graceful, 
neat-limbed,  fawn-colored  Jersey.  The  re 
luctance  to  part  with  her  that  I  detected  in 
the  old  man's  manner,  and  the  fact  of  his 
asking  me  ten  dollars  more  for  her  than  for 
any  other,  confirmed  my  intuition  that  I 
had  chosen  wisely.  I  was  about  to  close 
the  bargain  when  the  butcher's  words  came 
back  to  my  mind.  I  looked  sharply  at  the 
seller.  His  smooth-shaven  face  was  creased 
with  deep  lines  about  the  mouth — a  mouth 
resembling  his  brother  Peter's  in  its  smug 
rigidity,  but  whether  it  concealed  regret  or 
triumph  I  could  not  determine. 

"  Mr.  Waydean,"  I  said,  with  stern  in- 
cisiveness,  "  is  that  animal  a  fresh  cow  or 
a  stripper?  " 

His  reply  had  a  ring  of  indignant, 
scornful  reproach.  Take  her  or  leave  her, 
he  didn't  care  a  blank,  but  I  couldn't 
run  no  rig  on  him  by  asking  such  ques 
tions.  However,  since  I  had  mentioned  the 
114 


A  Cow  and  a  Calf 

matter,  I'd  better  come  into  the  stable  and 
see  the  prettiest  week-old  calf  in  the  coun 
ty.  He'd  sell  it  for  two  dollars,  and  if  I 
raised  it  on  that  cow's  milk  he'd  be  willing 
to  buy  it  back  in  the  fall  for  ten.  My  lin 
gering  doubts  were  dispelled  when  I  saw 
the  pretty  little  soft-eyed  creature,  and  I 
suddenly  remembered  that  a  fresh  cow  is 
one  with  a  fresh  calf.  Marion  hadn't  spok 
en  about  getting  a  calf,  but  I  felt  sure  that 
if  I  suggested  it  should  be  made  into  veal 
she  would  insist  upon  its  being  kept,  then  I 
would  have  a  tangible  nucleus  toward  the 
realization  of  my  dream  of  owning  a  herd 
of  dairy  cows.  I  closed  the  bargain  hur 
riedly,  with  the  proviso  that  he  was  to  hitch 
up  his  team  and  deliver  my  purchases  at 
Waydean.  In  a  few  minutes  the  calf  was 
hoisted  into  the  wagon,  bleating  dismally. 
I  looked  for  some  demonstration  of  sym 
pathy  from  its  mother,  but  she  appeared 
quite  unconcerned  and  would  not  follow 
until  she  had  been  tied  to  the  rear  of  the 
vehicle.  I  thought  this  rather  peculiar,  but 
the  old  man  explained  that  she  had  always 
showed  a  great  fondness  for  home  and  was 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

reluctant  to  leave.  During  our  drive  he 
was  almost  as  voluble  as  the  butcher  had 
been,  discoursing  of  the  iniquities  of  the 
man  whom  he  was  ashamed  to  call  his 
brother.  "  Mr.  Carton,"  he  warned  me 
solemnly,  "  I  wouldn't  put  it  past  him  to 
come  over  and  run  that  cow  down,  he'll  be 
that  mad  that  you  knew  too  much  to  buy 
one  off  of  him,  but  don't  you  believe  a  word 
he  says.  A  man  that'd  go  into  court  and 
swear  as  he  done  in  connection  with  my 
late  father's  property  wouldn't  stick  at 
nothin'.  You  watch  Pete  ;  if  he  ain't  took 
you  in  on  the  rent,  he'll  even  up  in  some 
other  way,  for  it  ain't  in  him  to  act  straight 
and  square  like  me." 


"The  dear  little  lovely  thing!  I  do  be 
lieve  it's  hungry,  Henry.  How  are  you 
going  to  feed  it  ?  " 

I  have  been  asked  many  questions  for 
which  I  have  been  obliged  to  invent  an 
swers,  but  this  was  not  one  of  them.  I 
had  never  owned  a  calf  before,  so  my 
ideas  on  calf-raising  were  logical  and  con- 
116 


A  Cow  and  a  Calf 

elusive.  The  theory  that  the  progeny  of 
a  cow  should  not  be  allowed  to  associate 
with  the  mother  was,  I  explained,  founded 
upon  true  scientific  laws.  A  calf  brought 
up  on  a  milk-pail  would  learn  to  take  its 
food  at  stated  intervals,  escape  indigestion, 
heaves  and  hollow  horn,  and  grow  up  into 
a  gentle,  courteous  and  productive  adult; 
while  the  mother,  segregated  from  an 
otherwise  guzzling,  irrational,  worrying 
offspring,  would  chew  her  cud  in  the  placid 
beatitude  most  essential  to  the  production 
of  the  largest  quantity  of  rich  milk. 

Marion  listened  silently,  with  a  knowing 
smile,  but  when  I  had  finished  she  re 
marked  that  I  knew  perfectly  well  that  I 
was  talking  rubbish,  and  that  the  natural 
way  of  feeding  anything  was  the  right  way. 
Hadn't  I  better  get  the  soup  ladle  and  her 
mixing-bowl  and  teach  the  calf  to  sit  up 
properly  at  the  kitchen  table  while  I  was 
about  it? 

I  replied  rather  hastily,  and  before  I  had 

finished  speaking  Marion  left  me  and  went 

into  the  house.     I  was  alone  with  a  calf,  a 

cow,  and  a  guilty  conscience ;  alone  at  the 

117 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

very  time  when  I  most  needed  help  and 
encouragement.  Five  minutes  before  I 
had  looked  on  my  purchases  with  exulta 
tion,  while  my  wife  stood  in  the  stable  be 
side  me,  uttering-  ecstatic  exclamations  of 
delight  because  I  had  bought  a  cow  so 
beautiful  to  behold  and  the  dearest  little 
calf  that  I  must  never  mention  in  connec 
tion  with  veal  again ;  now,  in  my  black  de 
spair  over  this  disagreement,  I  hated  the 
innocent  cause  of  it.  If  Marion  had  tried 
persuasion,  I  would  have  been  willing  to 
cast  my  theory  to  the  winds,  but  I  could 
not  brook  ridicule  and  I  determined  to 
bring  up  that  calf  by  hand  at  whatever  cost 
in  time  and  trouble.  I  decided  to  begin  at 
once  by  learning  to  milk  the  cow ;  after 
that,  I  would  be  in  a  better  position  to  look 
up  Marion  and  forgive  her  for  the  way  I 
had  behaved. 

I  didn't  expect  to  become  an  expert 
milker  at  once,  but  I  knew  from  observa 
tion  how  to  milk,  and  I  went  to  work  with 
frantic  energy.  In  a  calmer  frame  of  mind 
I  might  have  waited  to  tie  Ariadne's  legs 
together,  they  looked  so  excessively  agile ; 
118 


A  Cow  and  a  Calf 

however,  she  allowed  me  to  exhaust  every 
possible  grip  and  password  without  pro 
test,  also,  —  alas !  —  without  acknowledg 
ment.  When  I  retreated  at  last  with  the 
empty  pail,  my  dismay  was  increased  by 
the  sideways  leaps  of  joyful  anticipation 
indulged  in  by  the  calf  in  the  next  stall. 
Something  had  to  be  done  to  fill  up  that 
creature,  and  I  realized  with  a  sense  of  ut 
ter  desolation  that  I  was  left  alone  to  do  it. 
A  word  of  advice,  a  protest,  tears  or  angry 
reprisals,  would  alike  have  been  sweet  to 
my  ears  at  that  moment,  but  I  knew  Mar 
ion  too  well  to  hope  that  she  would  come 
to  my  help  until  I  implored  her  forgive 
ness  ;  even  then, — oh,  maddening  incon 
sistency  ! — she  would  perhaps  be  plunged 
in  gloom  because  I  had  not  enough  strength 
of  character  to  stick  to  my  convictions. 
No,  there  was  but  one  course  for  me: 
I  must  prove  the  worth  of  my  theory,  if 
possible ;  if  not,  I  would  at  least  be  in  a 
position  to  capitulate  with  the  honors  of 
war. 

I  went  into  the  house  and  looked  up  the 
directions  for  teaching  a  calf  to  drink.     I 
119 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

found  that  you  merely  seized  it  by  the  nos 
trils  with  the  thumb  and  little  finger,  insert 
ing  the  other  three  into  its  mouth  as  you 
drew  its  head  gently  into  the  pail  of  milk. 
This  operation  sounded  rather  objection 
able,  but  I  could  not  afford  to  be  squeam 
ish,  and  I  prepared  to  smuggle  our  small 
supply  of  milk  out  of  the  pantry  and  add  it 
up  with  water  to  make  a  sufficient  bulk. 
As  I  passed  through  the  kitchen  I  glanced 
furtively  at  Marion  in  the  faint  hope  that 
she  might  be  ready  to  hold  out  the  olive 
branch,  but  when  I  saw  that  she  did  not 
deign  to  notice  my  existence  a  sudden  vio 
lent  resentment  seized  me.  Instead  of  sur 
reptitiously  abstracting  the  milk,  as  I  had 
intended,  I  poured  it  into  the  pail  with  de 
fiant  ostentation ;  still,  I  left  the  kitchen 
with  a  sinking  heart,  for  when  Marion  neg 
lected  to  ask  me  what  I  was  going  to  do 
with  that,  I  knew  that  she  must  indeed  be 
in  a  serious  mood. 

I  know  I  followed  the  directions  to  the 

letter  up  to  the  point  when  I  drew  the  calf's 

head  into  the  pail  and  inserted  my  fingers, 

though  much  perseverance  was  needed,  for 

120 


A  Cow  and  a  Calf 

it  seemed  to  be  able  to  travel  backwards 
in  all  directions  at  once,  faster  than  I 
could  go  forwards ;  but  after  that  I  am  not 
quite  sure  what  happened.  I  know  there 
was  a  violent  explosion  and  upheaval, — a 
blank  followed,  then  I  discovered  that  I 
was  standing  in  the  stable  doorway  fran 
tically  squeezing  three  of  my  fingers  be 
tween  my  knees  to  deaden  the  pain,  while 
the  calf  stood  outside  looking  at  me  with 
an  expression  of  incredulous  wonder,  its 
legs  sticking  out  in  four  different  direc 
tions  like  props.  I  wonder  whether  it  was 
blown  out  or  carried  out ;  I  don't  think 
it  walked.  I  don't  think,  either,  that  I  lost 
my  presence  of  mind ;  if  I  did,  I  found  it 
again  instantly.  Instead  of  going  into  the 
house  for  liniment,  I  calmly  turned  the  cow 
out  of  the  stable  also,  then  I  looked  on 
grimly,  resigned  to  non-interference  if  the 
calf  should  happen  to  bite  its  parent  or  the 
cow  kick  her  offspring. 

Ariadne  looked  around  apprehensively 
when  she  emerged  from  the  stable ;  the  calf 
ambled  crookedly  toward  her;  she  edged 
away  with  forward  pointed  ears ;  it  fol- 

121 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

lowed  hungrily.  She  trotted  toward  the 
open  gate,  the  calf  gamboling  in  pursuit; 
suddenly  her  tail  straightened  and  she 
broke  into  a  mad  gallop, — so  did  the  calf,  so 
also  did  I.  It  was  in  this  order  we  passed 
the  kitchen  door  where  Marion  stood  call 
ing  out  to  me  in  wild  alarm  to  run,  that  the 
cow  had  broken  loose. 

Perhaps  it  was  this  cheery  information 
that  inspired  me  to  overtake  my  movable 
property  a  mile  further  down  the  road, 
where  our  butcher,  homeward  bound,  had 
got  off  his  wagon  to  turn  them  back. 

"  You  might  be  able  to  milk  a  cow  that 
had  milk,"  he  said  with  a  chuckle,  after 
listening  to  my  tale,  "  but  it'd  take  Old 
Nick  to  raise  a  calf  on  a  dry  one." 

"  A  dry  one !  "  I  shouted.  "  Do  you 
mean  "- 

"  Did  the  old  man  tell  you  it  was  this 
cow's  calf?"  he  interrupted. 

"  Well,  no, — I  can't  remember  that  he 
did.  He  said  I'd  better  take  the  calf  too, 
and  I  supposed " 

"  Exactly — then  he's  salted  you  right 
enough!  You've  paid  forty  dollars  for  a 


A  Cow  and  a  Calf 

beef  cow  that  he  offered  to  give  me  for  a 
twenty  dollar  account  he  owes  me.  I'm 
sorry — dashed  sorry — that  you've  been 
took  in,  but — he,  he !  ha,  ha,  ha ! — but  you 
let  on  you  knowed  all  about  cattle,  and  I 
told  you  to  keep  your  weather  eye " 

"  I  can  stand  being  swindled,"  I  shouted, 
in  wrath,  "  but  I  won't  stand  any  told-you- 
so  business.  You  ought  to  have  more 
sense  than  to  talk  that  way  when — 
when " 

"  There,  there,"  he  interjected  sooth 
ingly — "  I  know  jest  how  you  feel.  The 
other  day  my  missis  told  me  I'd  smash  my 
hand  if  I  went  hammerin'  nails  with  an  axe. 
Well  sir,  it  wasn't  three  minutes  till  I  did. 
Of  course  I  swore  a  bit,  but  when  I  went 
into  the  kitchen  and  the  missis  asked  me 
first  how  I  done  it,  and  then  said  she 
knowed  I  would,  I  jest  went  clean  out  of 
my  head  with  rage.  I'd  sooner  have  gone 
out  and  slashed  the  other  thumb  than  have 
been  spoke  to  that  way." 

My  heart  warmed  to  the  butcher ;  he  is 
a  man  of  fine  feelings.  He  not  only  gave 
me  twenty  dollars  for  the  cow,  but  prom 
ised  to  frighten  John  Waydean  into  silence 
123 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

by  representing  that  I  was  preparing  evi 
dence  for  a  criminal  prosecution. 

"  And  now,"  I  said,  in  conclusion,  "  I'd 
like  your  candid  opinion  about  the  calf.  If 
I  decided  to  raise  it,  would  it  be  likely  to 
grow  into  a  valuable  cow  ? " 

"  Well,"  he  answered,  gulping  in  a  pe 
culiar,  hesitating  way,  as  if  he  were  reluc 
tant  to  answer,  "  you  mostly  can't  tell  what 
kind  of  a  cow  a  calf  will  make  when  it's 
a  week  old,  but  if  you — if  you  wanted  to 
raise  a  cow,  you — you " 

His  face  became  suffused  with  a  dull  pur 
ple  flush,  as  if  he  were  struggling  with  a 
mighty  spasmodic  sneeze ;  he  turned  his 
face  away,  his  body  shaking  convulsively, 
then  with  obvious  difficulty  he  continued : 
"  If  you  wanted  to  raise  a  cow  you'd  ought 
to  have  bought  a — a — ha,  ha,  ha ! " 

"  Have  bought  what?  "  I  cried,  in  exas 
peration. 

He  stopped  laughing  and  looked  up  and 
down  the  road,  then  leaned  over  the  edge 
of  the  wagon-seat  with  his  whip  hand 
shielding  one  side  of  his  mouth.  I  hung 
breathless  on  his  words. 

"  A — cow — calf,"  he  whispered. 
124 


VII 

THE  ADVENT  OF   WILLIAM   WEDDER 

1LIKE  to  forget  unpleasant  experiences 
quickly,  particularly  mistakes  of  my 
own,  and  to  that  end  I  hurried  home  and 
told  Marion  everything.  Few  husbands,  I 
know,  would  have  done  so,  but  I  am  not 
one  who  lacks  the  moral  courage  to  do 
right  when  I  know  it  will  be  better  for  me 
in  the  end ;  nor  would  I  be  unwise  enough 
to  attempt  to  conceal  the  fact  that  I  have 
faults  when  I  know  that  it  is  infinitely  wiser 
to  acknowledge  them.  An  error  thrust 
in  Marion's  way  may  arouse  her  compas 
sion,  while  a  good  deed,  too  obviously 
placed  there,  may  be  pushed  aside  with 
well-merited  contempt.  I  prefer  to  let  my 
virtues  bloom  in  seclusion  on  either  side 
of  her  path,  for  her  artistic  eye  delights  to 
spy  out  the  modest  flower  that  hides  itself 
in  verdure. 

125 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

Marion  vibrated  between  laughter  and 
tears  as  she  listened  to  my  tale.  Did  I  try 
to  extenuate  my  conduct,  or  gloss  over  my 
unspeakable  stupidity?  No;  I  castigated 
myself  unsparingly.  I  anticipated  the 
worst  that  might  be  said,  and  said  it  with 
superlative  fervor.  Only  thus  could  I  hope 
to  avert  the  useless,  humiliating  process  of 
having  my  mistakes  pointed  out  in  detail ; 
only  thus  could  I  evoke  the  sweet  human 
sympathy  I  craved,  and  divert  my  wife's  in 
dignation  toward  that  adroit  old  swindler, 
John  Waydean.  She  was  visibly  affected 
by  my  self-accusation,  and  I  began  to 
breathe  more  freely.  She  seemed  to  be  in 
no  haste  to  interrupt  with  a  word  of  re 
proach,  or  to  say  that  she  told  me  so,  or 
to  hope  the  experience  would  be  a  lesson 
to  me.  I  had  begun  to  reflect  that,  after 
all,  I  wasn't  a  bad  sort  of  fellow  and  that 
man  was  made  to  err,  when  suddenly  she 
burst  into  tears. 

"  Marion,"  I  cried,  aghast,  "  I'm  an  idiot, 
but  there's  no  use  crying  over " 

"  No,"  she  moaned — "  no — use." 

"  It's  my  fault,"  I  urged,  in  despair,  "  but 
126 


The  Advent  of  William  Wedder 

if  it  were  yours,  I'm — I'm  blamed  if  I'd 
cry!" 

"  It  is — my  fault,"  she  gasped,  with  a 
fresh  relapse. 

In  a  flash  I  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that 
she  was  overcome  with  remorse  for  having 
told  the  butcher  that  I  knew  all  about  cat 
tle.  I  saw  that  it  really  was  her  fault,  after 
all,  but  this  was  not  the  time  to  say  so. 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  assured  her,  with  sooth 
ing  generosity.  "  You  must  not  blame 
yourself — you  didn't  realize  the  awkward 
position  you  placed  me  in." 

"  No  —  use,"  she  repeated,  unheeding. 
"  To  think  that — I — should  be  so — taken 
in!" 

"  You  taken  in?"  I  cried.  "It  was  I. 
Who— what— to— oh " 

The  words  died  away  in  my  throat  as 
Marion  uncovered  her  face.  Not  a  word 
did  she  say,  but  her  look  was  insuffer 
able. 

"  I  didn't,"  I  protested  hotly ;  "  I  never 
said  I  knew  all  about  cattle  when  "- 

I  stopped,  disconcerted  by  the  expres 
sive  interrogatory  turn  to  the  corners  of 
127 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

her  mouth.  If  she  had  said,  in  words,  that 
I  had  convicted  myself  by  my  denial,  I 
could  have  argued  the  point,  but  this  silent 
denunciation  was  distracting.  I  stared  for 
a  moment  with  uncomprehending  hauteur, 
then  strode  from  the  room,  trying  to  make 
my  back  view  appear  like  that  of  a  man 
who  might  possibly  escape  being  mangled 
by  a  train  or  dying  of  heart  failure  until  his 
wife  had  an  opportunity  to  apologize  for 
her  heartless  conduct.  This  device  had 
never  failed ;  it  didn't  this  time.  I  was 
reaching  for  my  hat  in  the  hall  when  Mar 
ion  called  me.  I  looked  back,  virtuously 
impassive,  but  I  could  not  suppress  my  joy 
when  I  saw  in  her  face,  not  a  sorrowful 
willingness  to  forgive  me  this  time,  but  lov 
ing  toleration.  What  mattered  forty  dol 
lars,  or  even  forty  cows,  if  I  might  once 
more  be  restored  to  favor? 

It  was  in  all  sincerity  that  I  assured  her 
that  I  would  profit  by  my  experience,  for  it 
did  not  seem  possible  that  I  could  ever 
again  meet  a  cow  on  terms  of  mental  supe 
riority,  and  yet,  in  a  few  days,  time  and  my 
elastic  temperament  had  such  a  mellowing 
128 


The  Advent  of  William  Wedder 

influence  that  I  lost  all  sensitiveness  on  the 
subject ;  indeed,  after  pledging  the  butcher 
to  secrecy,  I  found  myself  telling  Andy 
Taylor  with  the  gusto  of  an  onlooker. 
And  later,  when  we  had,  through  the  good 
offices  of  the  butcher,  found  a  suitable  cow 
that  wasn't  dry,  I  became  able  to  appreciate 
the  humor  of  the  situation  with  quite  an 
impersonal  relish.  Our  new  cow  was  not 
a  graceful  animal,  like  Ariadne,  but  she  was 
easy  to  milk  and  docile,  and,  as  Marion 
said,  Paul  could  never  be  impaled  on  her 
horns,  for  she  hadn't  any. 

I  would  not  willingly  have  missed  the 
pleasure  of  owning  a  cow,  nor  the  satisfac 
tion  of  being  able  to  milk  her,  but  I  did  not 
try  to  disguise  from  Marion  the  fact  that  it 
was  hard  work ;  indeed,  the  harder  I  work, 
the  more  I  like  her  to  be  aware  of  it.  Solici 
tude  is  cheering  to  me,  so  when,  at  first,  she 
used  to  stand  beside  me  and  express  a  fear 
that  I  might  hurt  my  back  or  burst  a  blood 
vessel,  I  worked  enthusiastically ;  but  later, 
when  attending  to  our  cow  became  a  part 
of  the  inevitable  daily  routine,  and  when  I 
milked  in  solitude,  I  got  very  tired  and 
129 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

thought  morbid  thoughts  about  hired  men 
and  other  farm  accessories  that  were  not. 

It  is  odd  that  the  butcher's  aggravating 
habit  of  leaving  our  gate  open  should  have 
resulted  in  Marion's  suggesting  that  we 
should  hire  William  Wedder,  the  one  avail 
able  man  exactly  suited  to  our  require 
ments.  Also,  I  afterwards  reminded  Mar 
ion,  if  it  had  not  been  for  what  she  called 
my  negligence  in  not  removing  the  gate- 
semaphore  when  winter  set  in;  William's 
observant  eye  would  not  have  detected 
anything  nnusual  in  the  appearance  of 
the  place.  I  recalled,  too,  that  I  had  sev 
eral  times  been  prevented  from  taking 
down  the  sign-board  by  the  impossibil 
ity  of  rinding  the  hammer  and  the  wrench 
at  the  same  time ;  not  only  that,  but  when 
both  tools  were  to  hand  I  had  a  strange  in 
stinct  against  making  use  of  them  for  that 
purpose.  Marion  smilingly  admitted  that 
it  was  extraordinary ;  she  suggested  that 
perhaps  I  was  influenced  by  the  same  in 
stinct  that  led  me  to  leave  the  Venetian 
shutters  on  the  window  frames  all  winter, 
instead  of  taking  them  off  in  the  fall  and 
130 


The  Advent  of  William  Wedder 

putting  them  on  again  in  the  spring.  How 
ever,  I  was  proud  enough  of  the  success  of 
my  invention  to  be  content  to  see  the  ob 
trusive  request  "  PLEASE  CLOSE  THIS 
GATE "  swing  uselessly  in  the  wintry 
winds,  while  the  gate  itself  stood  open,  half 
buried  in  the  snowdrift  that  formed  around 
it  after  every  storm.  If  the  gate  were 
closed,  the  request  retreated  into  obscurity 
behind  a  post,  but  when  it  was  opened  the 
board  swung  across  the  roadway,  so  that  a 
person  driving  in  or  out  would  have  to  duck 
his  head  to  avoid  it.  The  butcher,  for 
whose  especial  benefit  I  had  taken  all  this 
trouble,  regarded  the  device  with  gloomy 
suspicion  when  I  showed  him  how  it 
worked.  Instead  of  admiring  my  ingenu 
ity,  he  insinuated  that  it  would  be  the  means 
of  frightening  his  horses,  so  I  insisted  upon 
his  driving  in  and  out  several  times  until 
they  showed  complete  unconcern.  He  ap 
peared  depressed  by  the  thought  that  he 
could  never  again  pretend  that  he  forgot  to 
close  the  gate,  and  although  I  secretly  sym 
pathized  with  him  in  his  repugnance  to 
taking  unnecessary  trouble,  I  was  de- 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

termined  to  break  him  off  the  habit  of  leav 
ing  the  gate  open. 

Thus  it  happened  that  William  Wedder, 
tramping  along  the  road  with  a  red  bundle 
swung  over  his  shoulder,  against  a  bluster 
ing  March  wind,  spied  something  that 
caused  him  to  stop  and  think,  to  lay  his 
stick  and  bundle  in  the  hollow  of  a  snow 
drift,  smooth  out  his  face  to  a  becoming 
gravity,  and  wend  his  way  up  to  the  house. 

It  was  several  hours  later  in  the  day 
when  I,  returning  from  the  city,  halted  in 
the  same  spot  and  stared  in  amazement. 
The  semaphore  had  vanished,  the  gate, 
standing  open  for  months,  imbedded  in 
several  feet  of  snow  and  ice,  was  now  closed, 
a  way  being  neatly  cleared  for  its  move 
ment.  I  opened  it  and  the  warning  notice 
shot  out  over  my  head,  in  perfect  working 
order.  I  walked  up  to  the  house,  puzzled 
but  gratified,  trying  to  conjecture  how  and 
why  Marion  had  prepared  this  surprise. 
She  opened  the  door,  struggling  to  conceal 
her  laughter  at  my  countenance. 

"  How  ever  did  " — I  began. 

"  Hush !  Come  into  the  sitting-room," 
132 


The  Advent  of  William  Wedder 

she  said  mysteriously.  "  There's  a  man  in 
the  kitchen !  " 

"  A  man !  "  I  exclaimed,  in  agitation.  I 
had  warned  Marion  never  to  admit  a  tramp 
in  my  absence,  and  somehow  I  leaped  to 
the  conclusion  that  she  had  been  imposed 
upon  by  a  hardened  villain.  It  was  a  relief 
to  think  she  was  no  longer  alone. 

She  nodded.  "  Not  an  ordinary  tramp," 
she  said.  "  He's  the  dearest,  funniest  lit 
tle  old  man,  with  pink  cheeks  like  a  baby's, 
and  so  clean  looking.  When  he'd  had  his 
dinner  " 

"  You  gave  him  his  dinner?  " 

"  Certainly  I  did.  You  don't  suppose  I 
sold  it  to  him?  Oh,  you  needn't  look  so 
stern ;  I'll  tell  you  how  it  happened.  I  was 
just  taking  my  pies  out  of  the  oven  about 
eleven  o'clock  when  he  knocked  at  the  door 
and  said  he'd  like  to  borrow  a  shovel  for  a 
few  minutes.  About  half  an  hour  later  I 
remembered  he  hadn't  brought  it  back,  and 
when  I  looked  out  of  the  front  window 
there  was  the  top  of  his  head  bobbing  up 
and  down  at  the  gate.  I  got  on  my  things 
in  a  hurry  and  went  out  to  see  what  he  was 
133 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

doing,  and  he  was  scraping  the  ice  so  hard 
with  his  back  turned  to  me  that  I  had  to 
shout  three  times  before  he  heard." 

"  '  What's  that  for  ?  '  I  called  out.  '  For 
you,  ma'am,'  he  answered,  turning  round 
with  the  oddest  look.  'For  me?'  I  said. 
'  Why,  I  never  asked  you  to  dig  out  our 
gate.'  '  No,  ma'am,'  he  said,  '  but  when  I 
seen  that  there  sign  hung  out,  I  thought  to 
myself  that  some  widow  with  small  chil 
dren  lived  here,  and  it  wouldn't  be  much 
of  a  job  to  dig  out  her  gate.  Then  when 
you  come  to  the  door  I  seen  I  wras  mistaken, 
but  I  thought  I'd  do  it  anyway,  for  it  wasn't 
your  fault  that  you  was  so  young  and — 
and '  " 

I  smiled. 

"  No,  I  didn't  pay  him,"  she  protested, 
the  becoming  flush  on  her  cheeks  deepen 
ing.  "  I  offered  him  a  quarter,  but  he 
wouldn't  take  it,  so  I  knew  he  wasn't  trying 
to  flatter  me,  and  I  made  him  come  up  to 
the  house  to  get  some  dinner  when  he  got 
the  gate  closed.  You  should  have  seen  his 
face  when  the  semaphore  went  behind  the 
gate-post.  He  was  so  delighted  that  he 


The  Advent  of  William  Wedder 

opened  and  shut  the  gate  several  times  to 
see  it  work,  exclaiming,  '  My,  my !  ain't  he 
got  a  head !  Don't  that  work  beautiful ! ' : 

"  I  suppose  you  did  right  to  give  the 
poor  old  chap  some  dinner,"  I  observed, 
with  a  complacent  smile. 

"  When  he  came  into  the  kitchen,"  she 
continued,  "  he  said  the  smell  of  hot  rasp 
berry  pies  was  the  most  appetizing  smell  in 
the  whole  world.  He  said  his  aunt  used  to 
make  them  when  he  was  a  boy,  and'once  he 
stole  a  whole  one  and  ate  it,  and  ever  since 
when  he  tries  to  feel  sorry  the  remembrance 
of  the  delightful  sensation  in  his  insides 
overpowers  his  conscience  and  makes  him 
feel  glad.  Of  course  I  gave  him  one  for 
dinner,  and  I  told  him  he  might  have 
another  if  he  wished,  but  he  declared  that 
one  was  enough — that  no  mortal  could 
stand  more  than  a  certain  amount  of  bliss. 
Just  fancy,  Henry ;  he  says  his  aunt's  pies 
weren't  a  circumstance  to  mine !  " 

"  The  old  flatterer !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  You  didn't  say  that  when  he  praised 
your  semaphore,"  cried  Marion,  with  re 
sentment. 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

I  hadn't  intended  any  reflection  on  the 
quality  of  her  pies,  but  it  was  some  little 
time  before  she  could  understand  that  I 
really  thought  them  to  be  infinitely  superior 
to  my  mother's. 

"  After  dinner,"  she  went  on,  "  he  said 
he  wasn't  in  a  hurry,  so  he'd  just  cut  up 
some  wood  and  do  the  stable  work  until 
you  came  home,  for  he  wanted  to  see 
you." 

My  curiosity  was  aroused,  also  my  sus 
picions,  for  my  wife's  manner  was  distinctly 
ingratiating.  That  might  mean  either  that 
she  had  some  new  project  of  her  own  in  the 
background  to  submit  to  me,  or  that  she 
was  about  to  tack  off  in  another  direction  in 
regard  to  one  of  mine,  as  she  had  done  in 
the  case  of  the  cow. 

"About  my  semaphore?"  I  inquired 
warily. 

"  So  he  said,"  she  replied,  with  a  tantaliz 
ing  laugh.  "  He  wants  to — to — handle  the 
county  right !  " 

My  heart  thumped ;  my  brain  seemed  to 
turn  a  somersault.  If  Marion  had  not 
been  swaying  to  and  fro  with  her  handker- 
136 


The  Advent  of  William  Wcdder 

chief  covering  her  face  as  she  struggled 
with  her  mirth  I  could  not  have  concealed 
my  exultation.  Months  before,  the  suc 
cess  of  my  device  had  led  me  to  think  of 
having  it  patented  under  the  name  of  "  The 
Eureka  Non-Automatic  Gate-Closing  At 
tachment,"  but  Marion  had  nipped  my 
project  in  the  bud.  The  butcher,  too,  when 
I  asked  his  opinion,  had  chilled  my  enthu 
siasm  by  declaring  that  if  my  gate-attach 
ment  proved  salable  in  this  locality  he 
would  move  to  some  other.  Of  course, 
that  was  before  he  had  become  expert  in 
keeping  his  head  out  of  the  way  of  the  sign 
board,  and  while  he  still  wore  a  strip  of 
court  plaster  on  the  bridge  of  his  nose. 

Now  my  judgment  was  vindicated.  A 
man  could  surely  sell  one  hundred  sema 
phores  at  five  dollars  each  in  one  county; 
ten  counties  would  enable  me  to  buy  Way- 
dean  ;  ten  more  would  pay  for  a  train  load 
of  implements,  as  in  my  day  dream  of  long 
ago  ;  another  ten  would  stock  the  farm  with 
domestic  animals;  tens  of  hundreds  of 
counties  still  remained  to  furnish  the  means 
for  nebulous  philanthropic  schemes. 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

Did  I  breathe  hard,  grow  flushed  or  pale 
with  excitement,  or  do  anything  to  indicate 
that  it  was  the  moment  of  my  triumph? 
No,  I  didn't.  For  one  thing,  I  was  sure 
Marion  was  keeping  something  from  me ; 
otherwise,  why  should  it  seem  so  funny  to 
her?  Until  I  understood  what  she  meant, 
I  must  appear  calm,  even  bored. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  stifling  a  yawn,  "  I'll  go 
and  send  him  off.  I  wouldn't  be  bothered 
selling  county  rights ;  besides,  the  sema 
phore  isn't  patented." 

Marion  looked  puzzled.  "  Wait,"  she 
said  hurriedly,  "  till  I  tell 

"  I'll  get  rid  of  him  first,"  I  said,  with 
determination,  "  and  then  you  can  tell  me 
the  rest." 

"  But  he's  not  to  be  sent  off,"  she  insisted. 
"  Sit  down,  and  I'll  tell  you  everything. 
He's  looking  for  a  place." 

"  A  place !  "  I  exclaimed,  beginning  to 
see  light.  "  What  has  that  got  to  do  with 
us?  When  I  proposed  hiring  a  man  you 
said  we  couldn't  afford  to  hire  more  than  a 
quarter  or  an  eighth  of  a  man." 

"  Exactly.  And  this  old  man  wants  a 
138 


The  Advent  of  William  Wedder 

place  where  he  need  work  only  two  or  three 
hours  a  day.  He  won't  take  any  wages, 
but  he'd  like  to  have  the  reading  of  our 
books  and  newspapers.  He  says  he  hasn't 
any  use  for  money  as  long  as  he  has  '  good 
readin'  and  nice  vittles.'  " 

I  smiled  at  the  persuasive  eagerness  of 
her  tone.  She  was  evidently  bent  upon 
hiring  this  peculiar  old  man,  but  she  had 
expected  me  to  make  the  proposal  so  that 
she  could  gracefully  accede  to  it.  There 
would  be  certain  advantages,  I  concluded, 
accruing  to  the  possession  of  even  the  frac 
tional  part  of  a  hired  man.  For  instance,  I 
would  at  once  be  relieved  of  the  stable  work 
and  the  milking  of  Mary  Jane.  Then 
spring  was  coming  on,  and  I  would  be  able 
to  enjoy  the  luxury  of  watching  him  toiling 
in  the  vegetable  garden  under  Marion's 
supervision.  Furthermore,  my  birthday 
would  arrive  with  the  first  green  grass,  and 
there  were  indications  that  I  would  be  pre 
sented  with  a  lawn-mower. 

"  Well,  what  did  you  tell  him  ?  "  I  asked, 
trying  to  look  judicial. 

"  I  said  that  of  course  it  was  a  matter  for 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

you  to  decide  and  I  couldn't  say  anything 
about  it." 

I  could  not  repress  a  gleam  of  ironical 
amusement.  She  was  absolutely  truthful, 
yet  it  was  a  convention  of  hers  that  my  word 
was  law,  and  that  I  was  the  autocrat  of  the 
household.  It  was  a  postulate  I  dared  not 
dispute. 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  I  admitted,  in  response 
to  her  frigid,  inquiring  glance."  I'll — I'll 
think  it  over.  In  the  meantime  I'll  have  a 
look  at  him." 

"  Well,  you'd  better  decide, — that  is,  I'm 
quite,  quite  willing  to  give  the  poor  old  man 
a  trial." 

Had  I  been  of  a  different  mind  from 
Marion,  I  could  scarcely  have  resisted  Will 
iam  Wedder's  persuasive  arguments,  and 
when  I  had  talked  with  him  for  a  few  min 
utes  I  did  not  wonder  that  she  had  suc 
cumbed  to  his  fascinating  eloquence.  I 
knew  his  praise  of  my  semaphore  must  be 
flattery,  and  yet — I  liked  it.  I  felt  sure  from 
his  manner,  his  appearance  and  his  conver 
sation  that  he  was  merely  masquerading  as 
a  hired  man,  but  I  wanted  to  see  him  play 
140 


The  Advent  of  William  Wedder 

the  part,  although  he  looked  more  like  a 
well-to-do  retired  farmer  taking  a  holiday 
than  a  man  who  needed  to  travel  about 
looking  for  work.  He  did  not  present 
credentials,  but  I  ignored  the  question  of 
references,  which  seemed  quite  unnecessary 
in  view  of  his  obvious  respectability.  He 
knew  how  to  do  farm  work,  he  assured  me ; 
he  was  handy  with  tools,  understood  gar 
dening,  and  could  churn  and  make  butter 
as  well  as  milk  the  cow.  As  to  terms,  he 
would  not  take  money,  but  he  would  be 
more  than  satisfied  if  he  had  his  board  and 
plenty  of  reading  matter.  In  the  slack 
time  in  midsummer, — his  smooth-shaven 
jolly  face  grew  solemn  as  he  spoke, — per 
haps,  if  it  wouldn't  be  too  much  to  ask,  and 
if  he  needed  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  I  might 
let  him  have  just  a  township  right  to  sell 
my  gate-closer. 

I  fixed  my  curious  gaze  upon  his  rigid 
features.  I  knew  instinctively  that  his 
earnest  solemnity  was  assumed ;  I  knew  by 
experience  that  nothing  was  so  effective  in 
baffling  any  attempt  to  play  off  as  a  steady 
concentrated  stare.  His  eyes  drooped 
141 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

slightly ;  he  studied  the  names  on  the  draw, 
ers  of  the  spice-cabinet  attentively;  too  at 
tentively. 

"  William,"  I  said,  with  deliberate,  un 
bending  determination,  "  I  have  avoided 
asking  you  embarrassing  questions,  but  I 
must  know  the  truth  about  this  semaphore 
business  before  I  decide  whether  to  engage 
you  or  not.  What  prompted  you  to  dig 
out  my  gate  ?  " 

I  saw  a  faint  flicker  of  almost  contempt 
uous  amusement  in  his  face.  "  Why,"  he 
replied,  as  if  he  wondered  at  my  asking  such 
a  simple  question,  "  I  seen  that  there  notice 
up,  of  course." 

"  I  want  to  know  the  truth,"  I  repeated 
slowly,  and  this  time  I  was  almost  startled 
by  the  perfection  with  which  I  imitated 
Marion's  inflexible  intonation. 

His  face  assumed  a  pained  and  yet  for 
giving  expression,  and  he  regarded  the  hair 
broom  with  intense  interest.  I  waited,  as 
Marion  had  once  waited  for  me,  with  the 
air  of  being  willing  to  wait  until  he 'had 
time  to  compute  the  number  of  hairs  it 
contained,  and  I  tried  to  intimate  silently 
142 


The  Advent  of  William  Wedder 

that  my  waiting  could  have  but  one  result. 
This  specialty  of  Marion's  was  more  diffi 
cult,  but  I  succeeded,  for  William  suddenly 
laughed  and  looked  me  full  in  the  face  with 
engaging  candor. 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  said,  as  if  he  found  a  diffi 
culty  in  making  the  confession,  "  I  didn't 
like  to  say  so  at  first,  but  I  thought — ha, 
ha ! — it'd  be  a  darn  good  joke  on  you." 

I  smiled  appreciatively.  William  had 
done  well ;  indeed  I  could  not  have  done 
better  myself,  but  I  recognized  a  hollow- 
ness  in  his  laugh.  I  waited  with  silent  ex 
pectancy,  as  one  of  Paul's  chickens  might 
wait  after  receiving  a  grain  of  corn  from 
his  store. 

He  paused,  looked  a  little  blank,  gulped, 
then  with  the  air  of  one  who  reluctantly 
parts  with  his  last  coin,  he  added :  "  Be 
sides,  I  wanted  to  see  how  the  semaphore 
worked." 

I  shook  my  head,  sighed,  looked  at  him 
pityingly,  for  I  saw  the  misguided  man  had 
persuaded  himself  it  was  the  truth,  and  I 
divined,  I  know  not  how,  that  he  was  mis 
taken.  I  tried  to  recall  what  Marion  would 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

have  said  at  this  juncture,  and  I  said  it ; 
indeed,  I  said  it  so  effectively  that  I  wished 
Marion  had  been  within  earshot.  If  my 
voice  had  not  been  an  octave  lower  than 
hers. I  might  have  doubted  that  it  was  mine. 

William's  peach-tinted  cheeks  flushed 
crimson ;  he  wiped  his  brow  with  his  red 
bandanna.  "  I  ain't  been  cornered  like 
this,"  he  exclaimed,  "  since  my  miss — "  He 
checked  the  utterance  with  an  abrupt 
cough,  and  continued  in  a  low  soliloquizing 
tone,  "  Now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  the  wind 
was  blowin'  pretty  fresh  and  jest  when  I 
come  opposite  the  gate  I  caught  a  whiff 
that  set  me  thinkin'." 

"  A  whiff?  "  I  asked,  in  surprise. 

"  Hot — raspberry — pies,"  he  explained, 
wiping  his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his  hand. 

I  was  completely  satisfied  and  engaged 
him  on  the  spot,  sending  him  to  milk  at 
once.  He  had  scarcely  departed  when  the 
door  into  the  dining-room  opened  and 
Marion  appeared.  I  saw  from  her  face  that 
she  had  been  listening  to  the  conversation, 
and  that  indignation  and  amusement 
struggled  for  mastery. 
144 


The  Advent  of  William  Wedder 

"  You  wr-r-efch  !  "  she  ejaculated. 

I  said  nothing.  I  was  master  of  the  situa 
tion,  and  I  knew  it  was  one  of  the  times 
when  she  could  imagine  more  provoking 
insinuations  than  I  could  put  into  words. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at  ?  "  she  cried 
indignantly. 

"  I  was  just  thinking — "  I  began,  then  I 
paused  dramatically. 

"Thinking  what?"  she  demanded. 

"  That  William  Wedder  is  either  a  mar 
ried  man  or  a  widower." 

I  had  intended  her  to  ask  me  why,  and 
I  had  the  answer  ready,  but  it  was  the 
wrong  question  she  propounded. 

"  A  married  man  or  a  widower  ?  "  she  re 
peated  slowly ;  then  her  face  became  sud 
denly  illumined  with  appreciative  mirth. 
"  Oh,  I  see !  Because  it  was  so  hard  to  get 
at  the  exact  truth  ?  " 

"  Ye— es,"  I  faltered. 


'45 


VIII 

MARION  RISES  TO  THE  OCCASION 

WILLIAM  WEDDER,  as  one-fourth 
of  a  hired  man,  was  a  distinct  suc 
cess.  Not  only  did  he  do  the  ordinary 
chores  that  had  previously  fallen  to  my  lot, 
but  he  lightened  Marion's  household  labors 
by  his  readiness  to  churn,  wash  floors  and 
windows,  and  to  do  any  other  extra  work 
that  might  have  turned  her  attention  from 
culinary  duties.  In  fact,  it  soon  became 
apparent  that  the  mainspring  of  William's 
energy  needed  to  be  kept  in  working  order 
by  a  diet  that  included  a  liberal  supply  of 
raspberry  pie  or  its  equivalent,  for  if  the 
quality  or  quantity  of  the  dessert  were  not 
to  his  liking  his  movements  became  languid 
and  his  cheerfulness  fled.  His  own  theory, 
he  told  me  in  confidence,  was  that  the  des 
sert  compartment  of  his  stomach  was  so 
arranged  that  no  amount  of  plain  food 
would  fill  it, — he  was  quite  sure  that  was 
146 


Marion  Rises  to  the  Occasion 

the  case,  for  the  only  effect  of  trying  to  fill 
up  by  substituting  plain  food  for  puddings 
and  pies  was  to  make  him  feel  lop-sided. 

But  if  he  was  costly  to  feed  he  paid  for 
his  board  by  the  bountiful  supply  of  vege 
tables  he  raised,  for  our  little  garden  flour 
ished  amazingly  under  his  care.  And  if 
we  fancied  chickens  for  dinner,  it  was  no 
longer  necessary  for  me  to  steal  out  with 
the  axe  at  night  after  Paul  was  asleep  and 
rouse  a  horrid  clamor  among  the  innocent 
victims  that  I  tremblingly  clutched  by  the 
legs.  How  William  did  it  we  never  in 
quired.  Indeed,  we  preferred  to  think  that 
he  didn't,  but  if  he  did,  it  was  done  in  silence 
and  with  decorum,  and  the  chickens  which 
I  had  taken  the  precaution  not  to  allow  Paul 
to  include  in  his  flock  appeared  on  our 
kitchen  table  looking  quite  as  if  they  had 
just  been  bought  at  the  market. 

It  was  during  the  second  summer  at 
Waydean  that  I  noticed  the  first  indication 
of  Marion's  longing  to  own  the  farm.  She 
began  to  resent  the  proximity  of  Peter's 
live-stock,  when  his  cattle  looked  as  if  they 
thought  of  leaping  the  fence,  or  when  his 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

pigs  strayed  into  the  barnyard.  Then  she 
began  to  speculate  about  the  value  of  the 
land  and  how  many  years  it  would  take  us 
to  save  enough  money  to  buy  it,  and  if,  after 
all,  it  would  not  have  been  better  to  have 
leased  the  whole  farm  in  the  first  place,  so 
that  we  might  have  had  employment  for 
the  whole  of  a  hired  man.  Later,  she  in 
sinuated  that  she  would  feel  more  confi 
dence  in  me  if  I  had  shown  myself  to  be  a 
masterful  man  by  insisting  upon  the  pur 
chase  of  a  plough  to  add  to  our  three  primi 
tive  implements,  and  when  I  contended  that 
a  plough  would  have  been  useless  without  a 
horse,  she  declared  that  a  horse  would  have 
been  provided  if  we  had  needed  one,  and  if 
we  made  up  our  minds  to  buy  the  place  we 
would  find  a  means  of  raising  the  money. 
But  in  this  case  I  was  not  as  sanguine  as 
Marion,  for  I  knew  that  Peter  would  hold 
out  for  a  price  far  in  excess  of  the  value  of 
the  property  if  he  knew  we  thought  of  buy 
ing,  and  that  my  present  income  would  only 
allow  us  to  put  away  a  small  sum  each  year 
toward  the  purchase.  However,  the  idea 
kept  working  in  my  mind,  though  I  was 
148 


Marion  Rises  to  the  Occasion 

careful  not  to  let  our  landlord  know  that 
we  coveted  his  land,  concluding  that  the 
best  way  to  deal  with  him,  if  we  ever  were 
able  to  buy  it,  would  be  through  a  land 
agent.  In  the  meantime,  I  had  consider 
able  difficulty  in  keeping  the  peace  between 
him  and  my  hired  man,  for  they  showed 
such  an  antipathy  to  each  other  that  I  feared 
a  dispute  would  arise  that  might  endanger 
the  renewal  of  my  lease.  We  had  all  be 
come  so  fond  of  the  place  that  I  was  more 
than  willing  to  go  on  paying  a  high  rent, 
and  Peter  himself,  besides  being  interesting 
and  entertaining,  was  still  a  precious  mine 
of  literary  material. 

Aunt  Sophy's  interest  in  Waydean  al 
most  equalled  our  own,  and  she  was  en 
thusiastic  in  her  approbation  of  our  idea  of 
buying  the  property.  She  wrote  that  had  I 
resembled  her  late  husband  in  temperament 
she  would  have  advised  Marion  differently, 
but  considering  the  wonderful  talent  I  had 
shown  for  not  buying  implements,  and  my 
sensible  ideas  about  poultry-raising,  she 
was  sure  I  could  be  trusted  to  manage  any 
amount  of  land  economically. 
149 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

Poor  Aunt  Sophy!  She  had  been  ill 
during  the  spring,  and  had  delayed  her 
second  visit  until  she  would  feel  stronger ; 
then  a  few  days  before  we  expected  her 
she  telegraphed  that  she  would  be  unable 
to  leave  home  and  asked  Marion  to  go 
to  her  at  once,  if  possible.  When  this 
direful  message  arrived  we  both  felt  at 
the  same  instant  that  it  meant  the  end 
of  dear  Aunt  Sophy.  But  in  addition 
to  the  sorrow  that  welled  up  in  me,  the 
appalling  thought  seized  me  that  it  was  now 
too  late  to  atone  for  having  allowed  her  to 
cherish  the  innocent  belief  that  the  fowls 
she  had  helped  us  to  eat  were  of  our  own 
raising.  I  could  no  longer  hope  that  the 
memory  of  the  vicarious  chickens  of  last 
summer  would  be  eclipsed  by  her  enjoy 
ment  of  the  real  home-made  ones  we  had 
meant  to  lavish  on  her  this  year.  Up  to 
this  time  the  fact  that  Marion  had  been 
equally  guilty  with  me,  had  been  consoling, 
but  when  I  saw  by  the  agonized  look  on 
her  face  that  the  same  dreadful  thought 
had  gripped  her  I  hastened  to  take  the 
blame. 


Marion  Rises  to  the  Occasion 

"  It  was  my  fault,  Marion,"  I  gasped 
penitently.  "  I  bought  the  chi — chick " 

"  Don't! "  she  cried,  with  a  little  shriek. 
"  How  can  you  say  that  dreadful  word  ? 
Of  course,  it  was  your  fault, — but  will  that 
keep  Auntie  from  dying  while  she  still 
thinks  that — that — oh,  oh  !  " 

I  must  say  I  had  not  expected  such  in 
gratitude.  Considering  my  generous  as 
sumption  of  the  blame,  Marion  might  at 
least  have  said  that  it  wasn't  my  fault. 
Some  people  can  perform  a  kindly  act,  and 
then  pass  on  their  way  serenely;  I  cannot. 
I  want  to  stand  by  and  enjoy  the  effect;  I 
like  my  beneficence  to  be  appreciated. 

Yet  unselfishness,  unlike  affection,  may 
be  wasted ;  worse,  if  ignored,  it  may  arouse 
a  whirlwind  of  passion,  as  I  found,  to 
Marion's  cost.  In  a  most  unbridled  man 
ner  I  disclaimed  responsibility.  I  asserted 
that  Aunt  Sophy,  if  she  were  dying,  would 
pass  away  more  peacefully  if  she  went  on 
believing  that  the  chickens  were  home 
grown  ;  that  anyway,  not  having  spared  ex 
pense,  I  had  procured  plumper  and  jucier 
ones  than  the  best  of  Paul's ;  that  any  per- 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

son  who  would  think  of  disturbing,  at  such 
a  time,  the  settled  convictions  of  a  dying 
aunt,  was  heartless  and  cruel ;  that  I  did  not 
purpose  standing  quietly  by  to  have  my 
reputation  blasted,  when  I  merely  needed 
to  tap  my  head  and  whisper  to  Aunt  Sophy 
that  my  wife's  delusion  was  a  harmless  one 
that  might  well  be  ignored ;  finally,  that  a 
dying  aunt  would  have  something  else  to 
think  about  than  the  origin  of  the  chickens 
she  had  eaten  last  year.  I  even  suggested, 
with  insane  hilarity,  that  she  \vould  be  ab 
sorbed  in  speculations  as  to  her  chances  of 
reaching  Uncle  Philip  before  he  had  begun 
to  underdrain  his  celestial  estate. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  I  came  to  my 
senses.  Marion  had  fled  from  the  room 
with  her  hands  over  her  ears. 

There  are  times  when  a  simple  acknowl 
edgment  of  wrong-doing,  or  a  humble 
apology,  is  sufficient ;  there  are  other  times 
when  it  is  expedient  for  me  to  confess  my 
utter  inability  to  understand  how  I  could 
have  behaved  in  such  a  base  and  brutal 
manner ;  but  only  once  in  years  am  I 
obliged  to  collapse  dejectedly,  my  face  ex- 


Marion  Rises  to  the  Occasion 

pressing  horror  and  revulsion  as  I  wipe 
cold  sweat,  imaginary  or  real,  from  my 
brow,  while  in  a  broken  voice  I  insist  that 
7  didn't, — that  if  I  seemed  to,  it  was  the 
devil  who  had  suddenly  possessed  me. 

This  time  Marion  was  disinclined  to  ac 
cept  any  such  explanation,  contending  that 
if  I  allowed  myself  to  become  possessed  I 
might  take  the  consequences,  and  I  had  such 
a  short  time  in  which  to  depict  the  extraor 
dinary  sensations  that  accompanied  the  out 
break  that  she  was  ready  to  start  for  the 
train  before  I  had  made  my  case  really  con 
vincing.  She  relented  sufficiently,  how 
ever,  on  the  score  of  parting,  to  forgive  me 
provisionally,  but  she  hinted  that  she  was 
taking  Paul  with  her  so  that  if  I  had  another 
seizure  I  might  enjoy  it  alone.  She  hoped, 
also,  that  I  would  make  a  strong  effort  to 
avoid  being  seized  in  the  presence  of 
strangers  who  might  not  understand  that  I 
was  irresponsible.  Did  I  think  she  could 
trust  me  to  behave  with  decorum  if  I  should 

be  sent  for  to  attend  poor  Auntie's 

obsequies? 

These,  and  other  insinuations,  I  bore  with 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

patient  quiet  dignity,  as  became  a  man  who 
had  been  lately  dispossessed,  and  my  de 
meanor  had  such  an  effect  upon  Marion 
that  she  bade  me  good-by  with  the  same 
affectionate  warmth  that  would  have  fallen 
to  my  lot  had  I  behaved  with  my  customary 
courtesy. 

It  was  not  until  the  next  day  that  I  began 
to  think  that  we  might  have  been  too  hasty 
in  concluding  that  Aunt  Sophy  was  seri 
ously  ill — although  I  could  think  of  no 
other  reason  for  her  sudden  change  of  plans 
and  her  summons  to  Marion,  but  I  was  not 
left  long  in  doubt.  That  afternoon  a  tele 
gram  arrived  from  Marion  assuring  me 
that  there  was  no  cause  for  alarm  and  that 
she  would  be  home  the  next  day. 

I  awaited  her  arrival  with  eager  curiosity 
and  impatience,  and  I  was  mystified  to  see 
her  step  off  the  train  looking  radiantly 
happy. 

Aunt  Sophy,  she  declared,  was  never  bet 
ter  in  her  life,  and  looked  ten  years  young 
er,  but  no  further  information  could  I 
extract  until  we  reached  the  house  and  Paul 
went  off  to  look  after  his  pets.  Then  I  in- 
154 


Marion  Rises  to  the  Occasion 

quired  anxiously  if  she  had  confessed  about 
the  chickens. 

"  N — no,"  she  admitted,  with  smiling 
hesitancy,  "  I — I  didn't.  Auntie's  mind 
was  so  taken  up  with — other  things." 

This  was  agreeable  news.  The  idea  of 
Aunt  Sophy  learning  of  my  duplicity  had 
been  painful,  when  I  had  supposed  she  was 
dying;  the  image  of  her  in  good  health  and 
looking  ten  years  younger  as  she  listened  to 
my  shortcomings  was  intolerable.  Besides, 
in  weakening  on  her  determination  to  con 
fess,  Marion  had  departed  from  the  line  of 
strict  moral  rectitude  that  she  was  continu 
ally  tracing  for  my  uncertain  footsteps. 
This  thought  I  carefully  buried,  like  a  dog 
with  a  precious  bone,  to  be  unearthed  when 
next  I  was  hauled  over  the  coals  for  not 
doing  the  thing  I  ought  to  have  done. 

"  Well,"  I  proceeded,  "  what's  up— what 
did  she  want  you  for?  " 

A  slightly  apprehensive  look  vanished ;  a 
most  becoming  flush  spread  over  her  face. 
For  a  moment  I  imagined,  if  such  a  thing 
were  possible,  that  she  radiated  with  pride 
and  vain-glory. 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

"  She  wanted — to  ask — my  advice,"  she 
replied,  with  innocent  diffidence. 

"  Your  advice !  "  I  shouted,  with  a  burst 
of  laughter.  "  Christopher  Colum —  Oh ! 
— I — I  beg  your  pardon,  Marion,  I  didn't 
mean " 

I  was  too  late.  I  am  a  blundering  idiot 
at  times,  and  my  wife  thought,  naturally, 
that  I  was  scoffing  at  the  idea  of  her  being 
qualified  to  give  advice,  when,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  I  considered  her  an  adept  in  that 
accomplishment.  I  had  the  painful  task  of 
explaining  in  detail  why  I  had  laughed,  and 
the  humiliation  of  admitting  that,  after  all, 
it  wasn't  a  bit  odd  for  an  old  lady  to  crave 
advice  from  her  niece. 

"  Anyway,"  Marion  contended,  with  re 
curring  indignation,  "  she  isn't  really  old — 
she's  only  fifty-three." 

"  Is  that  all?  "  I  inquired,  with  excessive 
surprise.  "  Why,  she's — she's  just  in  her 
prime !  " 

"Just  what  I  told  her!"  exclaimed 
Marion,  with  approving  enthusiasm.  "  I 
said  she  had  half  a  lifetime  before  her 
yet." 

'56 


Marion  Rises  to  the  Occasion 

"  Certainly,  she  has,"  I  agreed.  "  And 
what  did  she  want  your  advice  about  ?  " 

A  look  of  ineffable  sweetness,  of  tender, 
grand-maternal  pride  illumined  Marion's 
countenance.  I  had  never  seen  its  like  be 
fore,  but  somehow  I  recognized  a  spiritual 
inner  consciousness  made  visible ;  an  in 
tangible  something  that  a  man  of  less  re 
fined  and  delicate  perceptions  would  have 
missed.  I  didn't  know  what  it  meant.  I 
do  now. 

"  Dear  Aunt  Sophy,"  she  murmured 
dreamily,  her  eyes  brimming,  her  gaze  di 
rected  through  and  far  beyond  me,  in  a  way 
that  made  me  feel  transparent ;  "  she  was  so 
happy  when  I  settled  it !  " 

This  remark  conveyed  no  meaning  to  my 
mind,  yet  something  within  me  vibrated  in 
sympathy  to  her  mood,  so  that  for  a  short 
time  I  sat  spellbound,  caring  only  to  enjoy 
the  subtle  delight  of  feeling  what  I  didn't 
comprehend.  I  remembered,  years  before, 
in  a  lecture  on  mental  phenomena,  hearing 
the  difference  between  perception  and  ap 
perception  explained  so  minutely  that  my 
brain  swiftly  convoluted  whenever  I  tried  to 
157 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

recall  the  distinction  ;  now  it  was  clear. 
Marion  and  Aunt  Sophy  had  apperceived 
together  —  /  was  apperceiving.  There  was 
an  inner  circle,  and  I  was  of  it  ;  yet  in  the 
midst  of  my  enjoyment  my  material  mind 
somehow  detached  itself,  reaching  out 
longingly  for  more. 

"  You  settled  it  ?  "  I  suggested,  in  a  rev 
erent  whisper. 

"  I  did,"  she  replied  softly. 

My  mind  was  a  yawning  void,  Accept  for 
the  intrusive  suggestion  of  coffee,  plainly 
absurd,  yet  some  instinct  warned  me  to 
avoid  abruptness. 

"  Was  she  willing  to  —  to  —  ?  "  I  ventured. 

"Willing!  —  willing!  —  I  should  think  so. 
But  I  know  exactly  how  she  felt.  Her 
mind  was  really  made  up,  I  think,  though 
she  didn't  know  it.  I  could  see  that  al 
though  she  thought  she  wanted  my  advice 
she  would  have  been  heartbroken  if  I  had 
advised  her  not  to  do  it,  and  I  knew  that 
what  she  needed  was  my  encouragement, 


"  You   encouraged   her,"   I   cried,   with 
sudden  inspiration. 

158 


Marion  Rises  to  the  Occasion 

"  Why,  of  course  I  did.  She  was  so 
grateful  that  she  just  threw  her  arms  about 
me  and —  Marion  choked  with  emotion 
and  stopped  to  wipe  away  her  joyful  tears. 

I  began  to  feel  distracted,  but  with  an 
effort  I  focussed  my  mind  on  the  main 
point,  setting  aside  as  unimportant  a  doubt 
as  to  what  Aunt  Sophy  had  done  or  said 
after  she  had  embraced  her  niece. 

"  What  disturbed  her  mind  before  you 
settled  it?"  I  asked. 

"  She  was  afraid  that  I — that  people 
might  think  her  old  and  foolish." 

"  And  you  made  her  believe  that  she  was 
— I  mean,  wasn't?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  told  her  that  you  had  often 
said  that  people  ought  to  consider  it  a  duty 
to — to  live  so  that — that  they  would  enjoy 
the  companionship  of  suitable  companions 
when — they  got  up  in  years,  and  that  an 
elderly  person  living  around  among  rela 
tives  was  to  be  pitied." 

It  was  a  garbled  version  of  an  argument 
I  had  used  during  a  previous  discussion 
on  the  propriety  of  second  marriages.  I  had 
contended,  with  personal  indifference,  that 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

to  an  impersonal  entity,  left  alone  in  this 
vale  of  tears  with  no  embarrassing  family 
ties,  and  feeling  no  dread  of  complications 
in  a  future  state  of  existence,  a  second  mar 
riage  might  prove  both  expedient  and 
happy.  This  suggestion  I  had  offered  in 
entire  innocence,  as  I  might  have  distended 
a  paper  bag  for  a  child  to  burst,  fancying  it 
would  please  Marion,  as  it  usually  did,  to 
worry  a  weak  argument  to  tatters ;  an  op 
eration  which  I  enjoyed  for  the  sakepf  see 
ing  her  eyes  flash  and  the  becoming  color 
that  mounted  to  her  cheeks.  But  when, 
amid  a  torrent  of  tears,  she  accused  me  of 
being  just  like  other  men,  and  of  planning 
to  marry  another  wife,  I  was  struck  dumb 
with  horror.  It  was  painful  enough  to  be 
brought  face  to  face  with  the  thought  of 
her  dying  first,  but  to  be  branded  as  a 
probably  faithless  wretch  was  agony.  I 
can  try  to  justify  myself  for  wrong-doing ;  I 
can  resent  the  injustice  of  being  blamed  for 
actions  that  I  refrain  from ;  but  when  I 
suffer  for  deeds  that  I  wouldn't  do  in  the 
distant  future  I  am  staggered  by  improb 
able  possibilities.  Given  the  opportunity, 
160 


Marion  Rises  to  the  Occasion 

might  I  not  have  caused  the  death  of  my 
great-great-grandfather?  Consequently,  I 
remained  silent,  guiltily  silent,  in  appear 
ance  ;  and  Marion  no  longer  condemned 
second  marriages — at  least,  she  hadn't  for 
some  months — as  a  disgrace  to  civilization, 
her  manner  indicating  sorrowful  resigna 
tion  to  the  inevitable. 

It  is  strange,  but  true,  that  I  didn't  know 
what  was  coming;  and  yet  I  thought  I 
knew,  too  well.  My  wife  had  apparently 
told  her  aunt  of  my  supposititious  inclina 
tions  ;  they  had  wept  in  each  other's  arms ; 
they  had  apperceived  together;  awful 
thought,  they  had  apperceived  ME. 

Never  before  had  I  been  so  moved.  I 
rose  to  my  feet,  my  teeth  tightly  clenched, 
vaguely  pleased  to  notice  that  I  stood  un 
steadily  ;  it  was  the  proper,  the  most  effect 
ive  way.  "  Marion,"  I  said,  in  an  under 
tone,  gripping  her  arm,  yet  careful  to  press 
only  hard  enough  for  a  grip — she  was  such 
a  tender  little  thing,  though  so  cruel.  I 
had  intended  to  say  more,  but  the  one  word 
seemed  so  full  of  meaning  that  I  stopped 
to  let  it  penetrate ;  also  to  give  one  swift 
161 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

glance  at  the  reflection  of  my  face  in  the 
mirror  of  the  wall-cabinet.  That  glance 
showed  me  that  I  appeared  to  be  struggling 
with  the  unutterable  ;  I  went  on  doing  so. 

Marion's  face  grew  pale  and  rigid. 
"  Good  gracious,  Henry ! "  she  cried,  try 
ing  to  rise  ;  "  what's  the  matter?  " 

"  Sit  still,"  I  commanded  fiercely,  with  a 
bitter  smile ;  a  smile  that  made  my  teeth 
gleam  back  at  me  wolfishly  from  the 
wall-cabinet.  "  Matter  enough !  You've 
wrecked  my  happiness  by  telling  Aunt 
Sophy  that  I  wanted  another  wife." 

"  I  never  did !  "  she  cried  indignantly. 
"  Do  you  think  I  could  bear  to  tell  anyone 
if — if  it  was  true  ?  " 

My  grasp  relaxed.  I  knew  there  must 
be  something  wrong  in  my  reasoning. 
"  Do  you  mean,"  I  asked  cautiously,  "  that 
you  couldn't  have  told  her  because  it  wasn't 
true — or — or  because  it  was." 

"  I  couldn't  tell  her  anyway,"  she  cried, 
with  a  peal  of  laughter,  covering  her  face 
with  her  hands.  "  Oh,  how  funny !  " 

I  sat  down,  feeling  strangely  flabby  and 
weak.  "  Then  why,"  I  asked  helplessly, 
162 


Marion  Rises  to  the  Occasion 

mopping  my  brow,  "  did  you  repeat  what  I 
said  about  second  marriages?  " 

Her  smile  gave  place  to  a  look  of  anxiety. 
"  Listen,  Henry,"  she  entreated,  "  and  try 
to  fix  your  mind  on  this.  I  explained  to 
you  that  your  opinion  was  the  greatest 
comfort  to  her,  and  I  told  her  what  you 
thought  because  I  wanted — to — settle — her 
— mind." 

"  Oh,  yes — just  so,"  I  assented.  "  And 
it  got  that  way  because  she  was  old  and 
foolish."  I  nodded  with  a  vacuous  air  of 
perfect  understanding. 

Marion  leaned  back  on  the  sofa  limply 
and  stared  at  me.  "  Not  because  she  was 
old  and  foolish,  for  she  wasn't,"  she  said 
helplessly,  "  but  because  she  thought  other 
people  would  think  she  was." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  I  repeated  vacantly ;  "  then 
you  came  along  and  straightened  things 
out.  Now,"  I  added,  "  you  may  try  your 
hand  on  me.  My  mind's  unsettled." 

I  felt  a  foolish  smile  widening  my  mouth 
at  Marion's  look  of  alarm,  and  closed  my 
eyes  trustfully  as  my  head  drooped  back 
wards.  When  I  opened  them  again  she 
163 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

was  standing  behind  my  chair  shaking  me 
with  all  her  might.  A  fog  seemed  to  drift 
away  from  my  brain  and  I  suddenly  knew 
what  I  wanted  to  ask.  "  What — advice — 
did  you — give?  "  I  asked,  in  spasms. 

"  To  marry — Mr.  Fair " 

"  Marry!  "  I  shouted,  leaping  to  my  feet. 
"Old  Fairman?" 

Her  eyes  shone  with  triumph.  "  Mr. 
Fairman,  Henry,"  she  said,  in  gentle  re 
proof.  "  Auntie  left  all  the  arrangements 
to  me,  and  she  was  delighted  at  the  idea  of 
being  married  here  at  the  end  of  her  visit. 
I  knew  you  would  be  glad  to  do  anything 
you  could." 

"  But  where  do  I  come  in?  "  I  asked,  in 
bewilderment. 

"  Oh,  well,  I  don't  exactly  know  yet,  but 
I  might  want  you  to  give  her  away  if  we 
decide  to  have  anyone  do  that,  and  there 
are  lots  of  things  you  can  attend  to." 

I  smiled  a  smile  that  I  keep  for  particular 
occasions.  At  times  I  can  be  decided  ;  Mar 
ion  says  obstinate.  But  whether  it  is  ob 
stinacy  or  decision,  I  am  as  unyielding  as  a 
mule  when  the  fit  seizes  me.  I  care  not 
164 


Marion  Rises  to  the  Occasion 

for  reason,  threats  or  chastisement;  hope, 
fear,  love  and  all  else  are  encased  in  the  one 
instinct  to  stand  rigid,  with  my  ears  flat 
against  my  head  and  my  fore-feet  project 
ing  slightly.  Marion  has  learned  that  the 
only  remedy  is  to  pat  me  around  the  nose 
and  put  a  lump  of  sugar  in  my  mouth.  So 
have  I. 

"  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  I  said,  with 
a  quick  sideways  jerk  of  my  head. 

Marion  swallowed  twice  before  she 
spoke.  "  Henry,  dear,"  she  said,  sweetly, 
"  I  know  you  must  have  a  good  reason  for 
your  decision.  Tell  me  what  it  is,  won't 
you?" 

I  hadn't,  but  when  a  man  is  spoken  to 
that  way  he's  got  to  take  notice,  or  feel  like 
a  boor.  "  It  would  take  too  long,"  I  re 
plied  stubbornly,  thinking  hard. 

"  Oh,  no,  it  wouldn't.  Come  and  sit  on 
the  sofa  and  tell  me  all  about  it.  It's  aw 
fully  good  of  you  to  take  so  much  interest 
in  my  aunt." 

I  sat  down  stiffly  on  the  edge  of  the  sofa, 
and  stared  into  futurity ;  Marion  toyed  with 
my  hair  and  looked  inquiring. 
165 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

"  You  ask  me  to  give  away  your  aunt,"  I 
began,  in  stern  accusation,  "  to  a  man  of 
whom  I  know  literally  nothing.  I  remem 
ber  him  only  as  a  well-dressed,  respectable- 
looking  old  codger,  wearing  gold-rimmed 
glasses,  a  stubby  grey  beard  and  no  mus 
tache.  He  may  be  virtuous;  he  may  not. 
He  may  be  in  love  with  your  aunt ;  he  may 
be  in  love  with  her  money." 

Marion  rested  her  cheek  against  my  un 
yielding  shoulder  and  reassured  me  on 
every  point  in  the  gentlest,  most  affec 
tionate  manner,  though,  she  knew  I  would 
be  relieved  to  hear,  I  was  under  no  responsi 
bility  in  the  matter.  Anyway,  it  was  only  a 
form,  and  if  I  objected  to  doing  it,  Auntie 
could  give  herself  away  or  send  to  Colorado 
for  Uncle  Richard.  "Is  that  all?"  she 
concluded. 

It  wasn't.  I  wanted  to  know  what  had 
become  of  the  first  Mrs.  Fairman.  After 
that,  there  was  one  thing  more  that  it  took 
much  coaxing  to  extract. 

"  It  doesn't  seem  fair,"  I  burst  forth,  at 
last.  "  He  can't  stop  it,  and  they  don't 
even  consider  whether  he'd  give  his  con- 
166 


Marion  Rises  to  the  Occasion 

sent,  if  he  had  a  chance."  Marion  stared 
at  me  stupidly,  and  I  saw  that  she  didn't 
understand.  "  Your  Uncle  Philip,"  I  ex 
plained,  in  a  low  tone. 

I  do  not  care  to  repeat  what  she  said.  At 
the  same  time,  I  cannot  see  that  such  a 
thought  is  more  irreverent  than  the  fact 
that  suggested  it.  Nor  could  I  see  that  I 
should  withdraw  my  objection  because,  as 
Marion  averred,  Uncle  Philip  would  have 
remarried  in  a  year  if  Aunt  Sophy  had  died 
first.  Indeed,  I  was  unrelenting  until  we 
came  to  a  complete  understanding  on  the 
whole  subject,  as  follows : — 

(a)  Second   marriages,   in   the  abstract, 
are  objectionable. 

(b)  Second  marriages  are,  occasionally, 
justifiable. 

(c)  Some  are  INCONCEIVABLE. 


167 


IX 

AUNT  SOPHY'S  GENEROSITY 

I  HAVE  often  wondered  how  my  wife's 
Aunt  Sophy  came  to  be  so  fond  of  me 
from  the  very  beginning  of  our  acquaint 
ance.  Up  to  the  time  that  she  visited  us  at 
Waydean  we  had  met  only  casually,  yet  at 
the  end  of  that  short  visit  we  parted  the 
warmest  friends ;  indeed,  she  embraced  me 
with  motherly  affection  and  implored  me 
to  take  good  care  of  myself  and  not  work 
too  hard.  What,  she  suggested  with  ten 
der  solicitude,  would  Marion  and  dear  little 
Paul  do  without  me  if  I  shortened  my  life 
by  overwork?  I  was  deeply  affected  by 
her  thoughtfulness ;  my  eyes  glistened  with 
emotion  as  I  promised  to  be  careful,  for  the 
mental  picture  of  my  family  sorrowing  over 
my  worn-out  frame  made  me  realize  what  a 
loss  I  would  be.  But  whatever  her  good 
opinion  was  based  upon,  force  of  circum- 
168 


Aunt  Sophy's  Generosity 

stances  tended  to  confirm  it,  for  she  found 
many  details  of  our  domestic  economies 
that  coincided  with  her  ideas  of  good  man 
agement,  and  never  failed  to  attribute  to 
me  more  than  my  proper  share  of  credit 
for  the  same.  It  was  impossible  for  me  to 
advance  an  opinion  on  any  subject  without 
her  enthusiastic  approval,  but  whether  she 
approved  of  the  ideas  because  they  were 
mine,  or  liked  me  because  of  them,  I  could 
not  determine.  Another  thing  that  made 
her  visit  enjoyable  was  Marion's  flattering 
desire  to  show  me  up  in  the  best  possible 
light.  I  was  surprised  to  find  that  I  could 
work  through  my  repertory  of  entertaining 
stories,  and  yet  have  my  wife  join  in  Aunt 
Sophy's  appreciative  laugh  with  the  zest  of 
a  first  hearing ;  and  whenever  Aunt  Sophy 
nodded  to  her  in  confidential  admiration  of 
my  cleverness  she  would  respond  with  a 
most  charming  flush  of  gratified  pride. 
Not  only  that,  but  I  have  heard  her,  on 
occasions  when  I  was  supposed  to  be  ab 
sorbed  in  my  writing  in  the  next  room,  al 
lude  to  my  admirable  qualities  in  an  artfully 
casual  way;  even  stating,  when  the  con- 
169 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

versation  turned  on  mining  stocks,  that  she 
was  thankful  to  say  that  Henry  couldn't  be 
induced  to  put  a  dollar  into  any  such 
scheme ! 

But  nothing  I  had  said  or  done  impressed 
Aunt  Sophy  as  favorably  as  Marion's  ver 
sion  of  my  opinion  on  second  marriages. 
During  the  two  months  she  spent  with  us 
at  Waydean  before  her  marriage  I  was  often 
embarrassed  by  her  expressions  of  grati 
tude  to  me  for  being  instrumental  in  help 
ing  her  to  make  up  her  mind.  No  one,  she 
said  repeatedly,  had  made  her  see  her  duty 
as  clearly  as  I,  and  no  one  else  could  have 
said  the  same  things  (at  this  point  she  al 
ways  paused  to  take  off  her  glasses  and 
wipe  her  eyes)  in  such  beautiful  and  sym 
pathetic  language ;  young  people  so  often 
thought  that  older  persons  had  no  right  to 
marry.  Nor  could  I  disclaim  the  senti 
ments  attributed  to  me  when  I  saw  what  a 
comfort  they  were  to  the  dear  old  lady. 

She  was  very  happy  in  her  preparations, 

but  to  me  there  was  something  pathetic  in 

her  happiness,  for  I  could  not  help  thinking 

of  poor  Uncle  Philip  and  wondering  if  she 

170 


Aunt  Sophy's  Generosity 

did  too,  but  as  far  as  I  could  find  out  I  was 
the  only  person  in  the  house  who  became  a 
prey  to  saddening  reflections.  This  per 
plexed  me  to  such  an  extent  that  sometimes 
I  was  distracted  by  the  fear  that  I,  too, 
might  be  forgotten — a  maddening  conclu 
sion,  but  logically  unassailable.  At  such 
times  I  would  hesitatingly  ask  Marion  if 
she  were  sure  Uncle  Philip  was  forgotten, 
but  she  would  only  reply,  "  Tut !  "  or  "  Stop 
that ! "  in  a  vicious  suppressed  whisper. 
This  was  unsatisfying,  but  of  course  Marion 
did  not  understand  my  need  of  sympathy, 
and  her  mind  was  not  in  a  favorable  condi 
tion  to  consider  questions  relating  to 
psychical  research.  I  had  seen  her  with 
Mrs.  Taylor  in  the  height  of  her.rag-carpet- 
ing  fever,  but  her  delight  in  that  was  slight 
compared  with  the  bliss  of  helping  to  plan 
Aunt  Sophy's  trousseau,  and  I  soon  real 
ized  that  it  was  not  a  time  when  she  would 
be  likely  to  concern  herself  about  either  my 
present  or  future  state. 

But  after  the  anniversary  of  our  wedding 
day  I  determined  that,  as  far  as  I  was  con 
cerned,  Uncle  Philip  might  remain  buried 
171 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

in  oblivion ;  if  he  intruded  himself  into  my 
thoughts  I  drove  him  forth  again  with  con 
tumely.  Only  thus  could  I  preserve  my 
self-respect,  and  at  the  same  time  feel  that 
I  was  at  all  worthy  to  partake  of  the  full 
measure  of  Aunt  Sophy's  generous  affec 
tion.  The  feeling  of  sympathy  that  I  had 
cherished  for  her  deceased  husband,  and 
the  half-reproachful  tolerance  of  her  pro 
jected  second  marriage,  suddenly  left  me, 
and  I  not  only  transferred  my  sympathy  to 
Mr.  Fairman,  but  I  began  to  hate  the  mem 
ory  of  Uncle  Philip.  I  might  not  have 
gone  as  far  as  that  if  he  had  not  persisted  in 
haunting  me  after  it  had  become  impossible 
to  harbor  him  without  being  disloyal  to 
Aunt  Sophy,  but  my  conscience  became 
clear  when  my  change  of  sentiment  could 
no  longer  be  doubted.  Had  I  still  felt  any 
mental  reservation  I  could  not  have  accepted 
her  more  than  generous  gift  of  a  cheque  for 
five  thousand  dollars  which  she  insisted 
upon  giving  to  each  of  us  on  the  morning  of 
our  wedding  anniversary,  nor  could  we 
have  refused  without  hurting  her  feelings. 
"  If  you  say  another  word,"  she  declared, 
172 


Aunt  Sophy's  Generosity 

in  response  to  our  protests,  "  I'll  be  of 
fended.  It's  a  queer  thing,  indeed,  if  I'm 
not  to  be  allowed  to  do  what  I  like  with  my 
own  money !  You  both  know  perfectly  well 
that  my  future  is  provided  for,  and  I'd  rather 
have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  spend  it 
now  than  put  it  away  for  you  until  after 
I'm  gone,  when  you  mightn't  need  it  so 
much.  You  don't  need  it  now?  Of  course 
not.  Well  then,  you,  Henry,  if  you  can't 
think  of  anything  else,  might  spend  yours 
at  the  races ;  Marion  can  give  a  real  nice 
ball  with  hers,  if  she  wants  to.  Remember, 
I'd  like  each  of  you  to  spend  your  money 
without  consulting  the  other,  so  that  you'll 
feel  perfectly  free  to  use  it  in  any  way. 
Put  it  away  for  Paul?  Not  a  bit  of  it. 
I'll  provide  for  Paul — the  dear  little  old- 
fashioned  pet !  Do  you  know,  he  came  to 
me  yesterday  with  that  solemn  expression 
of  his,  and  said, '  Auntie,  I  love  you  far  more 
than  if  father  had  killed  all  my  chickens  for 

you  to '  " 

"  Oh,  Auntie,"  interrupted  Marion,  with 
forced  gayety,  "  I've  intended  for  ever  so 
long  to  tell  you  about ' 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

I  cannot  bear  anyone  else  to  confess  my 
sins,  and  just  as  the  rapidly  ascending  pitch 
of  Marion's  voice  indicated  the  approach  of 
the  climax  I  recovered  my  presence  of  mind 
and  drowned  her  announcement  with  a  loud 
laugh.  "  Awfully  good  joke  !  "  I  exclaimed. 
"  Last  year  Paul  raised  such  a  hullabaloo 
about  eating  his  that  I — ha,  ha,  ha ! — had 
to  buy  all  we  used at  the  market !  " 

I  had  expected  her  to  be  astonished,  per 
haps  shocked ;  evidently  she  wasn't.  My 
laugh  stopped  short  as  I  saw  her  nod  in 
knowing  assent  and  smile  complacently. 

"  Auntie,"  cried  Marion — "  you  knew !  " 

"  Well,"  she  admitted,  "  I  won't  say  I 
knew  exactly,  but  I'll  tell  you  how  it  hap 
pened.  Perhaps  you  remember  my  saying 
last  summer  that  Henry  sometimes  re 
minded  me  of  your  Uncle  Philip?  " 

"  Yes,  you  often  said  that  he  had  uncle's 
smile  and  tone  of  voice." 

"  And  then,"  she  continued,  "  I  noticed 
that  it  was  always  when  I  spoke  about  the 
chickens  being  so  nice  that  I  saw  the  re 
semblance,  and  I  remembered  that  Philip, 
when  he  raised  fancy  fowls,  used  to  bring 
174 


Aunt  Sophy's  Generosity 

me  chickens  every  time  he  came  from  the 
farm,  and  I  never  suspected  that  he  bought 
them  at  the  market  until  one  day  we  had  a 
pair  for  dinner  that  couldn't  have  been  less 
than  ten  years  old." 

"  I — thought  it — would  spoil — your  ap 
petite  if  you  knew,"  I  began  penitently. 

Aunt  Sophy  laughed,  then  sobered  again 
in  tender  reminiscence.  "  Just  what  poor 
Philip  said,"  she  mused,  shaking  her  head. 
"  He  was  a  good  judge  of  meat  and  poultry, 
but  he  didn't  do  as  well  as  you,  Henry. 
There  isn't  one  man  in  a  thousand  who 
could  choose  as  many  tender  chickens  with 
out  being  taken  in.  I  never  would  have 
guessed  they  were  bought  ones  if  you  hadn't 
come  home  one  day  with  a  pair  of  legs 
sticking  out  of  the  parcel  under  your  arm. 
It  was  so  good  of  you,  Henry,  to  take  all 
that  trouble  to  spare  that  little  darling's  feel 
ings.  Not  many  fathers  would  have  been 
so  unselfish  and  considerate." 

I  said  nothing.  I  can  endure  being  ad 
mired  for  my  virtues,  but  Aunt  Sophy's 
commendation  made  me  dumb  with  excess 
of  emotion  and  joyous  surprise.  I  had 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

thought  myself  a  pretty  good  sort  of  fellow, 
but  the  revelation  of  how  much  better  I 
really  was  than  I  had  seemed  began  to  visi 
bly  affect  me.  I  became  so  agitated  that  I 
could  feel  my  nose  beginning  to  twitch  like 
a  rabbit's.  Marion  and  Aunt  Sophy  also 
looked  hysterically  inclined  to  fall  into  each 
other's  arms  in  an  ecstacy  of  forgiveness,  so 
I  hastily  retreated  to  my  study.  There  was 
a  stovepipe  hole  in  the  partition  between  the 
two  rooms  through  which  detached  and 
semi-detached  words  were  wafted  to  my 
ears.  Some  people  would  have  been  self- 
conscious  enough  to  move  out  of  hearing 
or  to  cough  artificially,  but  I  do  not  shrink 
from  the  truth.  I  knew  that  I  was  being 
alluded  to,  but  I  knew  also  that  there  was  no 
more  danger  of  my  being  puffed  up  by  self- 
conceit  than  of  a  proprietory  stamp  enrich 
ing  the  contents  of  the  original  package. 

"  He's tender-hearted,  Auntie 

couldn't  bear Paul's  chickens." 

" like  your Uncle  Philip!  " 

" wouldn't    slap mosquito." 

(No ;  I'd  rather  blow  him  from  the  mouth 
of  a  cannon.     H.  C.) 
176 


Aunt  Sophy's  Generosity 

"  Poor  Philip once  stepped 

toad quite  ill." 

"  Henry so  thoughtful do 

anything make  me  happy." 

"  Yes kindest  husband so 

much  sense Philip  different 

wouldn't  listen about  farm." 

"  Mr.  Fairman devoted be 

happy do  anything." 

"  Oh,  Marion! think  I'm old 

goose." 

I  know  when  a  conversation  becomes 
confidential,  and  I  quietly  retreated  without 
hearing  anything  further  except  some  in 
distinct  murmuring  and  happy  sobs. 

From  the  day  my  bank  account  was  in 
creased  by  the  sum  of  five  thousand  dollars 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  spend  it  all,  if  neces 
sary,  in  the  purchase  of  Waydean.  I  ex 
ulted  in  the  anticipation  of  Marion's  delight 
and  amazement  on  finding  that  I  had  pre 
ferred  to  do  this  in  place  of  frittering  it 
away  in  luxuries  that  we  could  do  without, 
or  investing  it  in  stocks.  I  almost  wished 
her  birthday  was  at  hand  so  that  I  could 
177 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

celebrate  the  day  by  making  her  a  present 
of  the  place ;  then  the  idea  of  giving  it  to 
her  on  Aunt  Sophy's  wedding-day  entered 
my  mind,  and  this  seemed  such  a  capital 
plan  that  I  decided  to  carry  it  out.  Few 
men,  I  meditated,  would  have  thought  of 
such  a  graceful  acknowledgment  of  Aunt 
Sophy's  kindness,  and  I  felt  that  Marion 
would  be  doubly  pleased  that  I  should  think 
of  adding  to  the  joy  of  the  eventful  day.  I 
could  not  help  wondering  what  my  wife  in 
tended  doing  with  her  money,  but  she 
didn't  say  anything  to  enlighten  me,  and  I 
took  good  care  not  to  allude  to  it,  for  fear 
she  should  question  me  in  return.  She 
made  frequent  trips  to  the  city,  carrying  her 
little  bank-book  with  an  air  of  importance, 
but  I  could  see  nothing  in  the  results  of  her 
shopping  to  indicate  lavish  expenditure. 
For  instance,  on  one  trip  she  bought  a  wire 
potato  masher  for  seven  cents,  a  spice  cabi 
net  for  thirty  cents,  sixty  cents  worth  of 
trimming  for  an  old  hat,  and  a  pair  of  silk 
suspenders  for  me.  The  price  mark  on  the 
latter  was  carefully  obliterated,  being  a 
present,  so  I  couldn't  tell  what  they  cost; 
178 


Aunt  Sophy's  Generosity 

anyway,  it  wouldn't  have  been  proper  to 
look  at  the  price,  if  it  had  been  legible. 
Evidently,  at  that  rate  of  spending  she 
would  have  enough  money  left  to  stock  the 
farm  when  it  became  hers. 

The  real  estate  agent  whom  I  consulted 
smiled  loftily  when  I  alluded  to  Peter  Way- 
dean's  reputation  for  shrewdness  and  over 
reaching.  "  Don't  concern  yourself  about 
that,  Mr.  Carton,"  he  said.  "  We  business 
men  are  accustomed  to  deal  with  these 
close-fisted  farmers.  They  usually  know 
the  value  of  a  farm  as  well  as  we  do,  but  we 
know  how  to  get  them  down  to  the  bottom 
figure.  We  don't  run  after  the  owner  and 
let  him  think  we're  anxious  to  buy ;  we  ap 
proach  him  in  the  most  incidental  manner, 
dangling  the  bait,  so  to  speak,  until  he's 
afraid  someone  else  is  going  to  snap  it  up. 
Now,  the  Waydean  farm  I  take  to  be  worth 
about  thirty-five  hundred,  and  you  say  the 
old  man  talks  of  selling,  so  if  you  allow  a 
margin  of  a  hundred  or  two  I  think  I  can 
secure  it  without  any  trouble." 

The  calm  confidence  of  Mr.  Brooks  elated 
me ;  after  telling  him  he  might  go  as  high 
179 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

as  four  thousand  dollars,  I  went  home,  cal 
culating  on  the  way  how  I  would  spend  the 
remaining  thousand  that  I  would  still  have 
to  the  good. 

A  week  later  Brooks  shook  his  head  as  I 
entered  his  office.  "  We  haven't  quite  got 
that  deal  through,  Mr.  Carton,"  he  said. 
"  The  fact  is  that  there  seems  to  be  a  snag. 
Old  man  appears  willing  to  sell — quite 
genial  and  all  that,  but  when  it  comes  to 
figures  he  fights  shy;  says  he  wants  more 
time  to  think.  To  hurry  him  up  I  made  a 
straight  offer  of  four  thousand.  I  could 
see  that  he  was  inclined  to  gobble  it,  but  he 
held  back,  and  when  I  went  out  yesterday 
I  discovered  why.  Ever  hear  of  that  being 
a  likely  spot  for  oil  or  gas  ?  " 

"  Good  heavens,  no !  "  I  cried. 

He  smiled  at  my  evident  alarm.  "  I 
haven't  either,"  he  assured  me,  "  but  I 
thought  perhaps  you  might  have  inside  in 
formation.  The  idea  came  into  my  head 
when  I  found  there  was  another  party  as 
keen  to  get  the  place  as  you." 

"  Another — party?  "  I  gasped. 

"  I  met  Roper — of  Bates  and  Roper,  you 
180 


Aunt  Sophy's  Generosity 

know — coming  out  of  the  old  man's  house 
yesterday.  I  guess  we  each  suspected  the 
other  of  being  on  a  private  speculation,  but 
after  considerable  sounding  I  found  that  he 
had  been  commissioned  to  buy  the  place. 
Then  it  struck  me  that  you  and  this  other 
party  might  have  been  quietly  procpect- 
ing." 

I  shook  my  head.  "  I'm  not  after  oil  or 
gas  wells  or  anything  else  in  that  line,"  I 
said  decidedly.  "  I  want  the  place  for  a 
quiet  home.  Who  is  this  other — man?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Roper  didn't  name  his 
client,  and  of  course  I  didn't  name  mine,  but 
as  far  as  I  can  make  out  we've  both  had 
similar  instructions.  It  looks  as  if  the  old 
man  were  holding  off  to  see  who  would 
make  the  highest  bid.  Now  it  isn't  worth 
more  than  four  thousand,  but  you  can  de 
cide  whether  to  bid  higher  or  let  it  go." 

If  anything  could  have  made  me  more 
eager  it  was  the  knowledge  that  someone 
else  wanted  Waydean.  The  thought  of 
Marion's  dismay  if  our  home  should  be 
sold  over  our  heads  filled  me  with  the  de 
termination  to  settle  the  matter  at  once.  I 
181 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

told  Brooks  to  go  ahead  to  the  extent  of 
five  thousand  dollars. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head  with 
reluctance,  "  I'd  rather  lose  my  commission 
than  see  you  give  that,  for  the  land  isn't 
worth  the  money, — that  is,  for  farming,"  he 
added,  with  a  shrewd  glance  at  me, — "  but 
that's  your  look-out,  and  I'll  do  my  best." 


182 


X 

UNCLE  BENNY  CREATES  A  DIVERSION 

IT  was  during  the  first  eighteen  months  of 
our  life  at  Waydean  that  I  wrote  "  The 
Meditations  of  Uncle  Benny  "  for  the  Ob 
server.  I  do  not  allude  to  these  sketches 
as  anything  out  of  the  ordinary,  for  there 
are  times,  as  Marion  says,  when  it  is  well 
for  one  to  neither  affirm  nor  deny  the  truth. 
Why  it  is  wrong  for  me  to  voice  a  just  and 
critical  appreciation  of  my  literary  work, 
and  proper  for  my  wife  to  openly  admire 
her  newly  scrubbed  floor  or  her  arrange 
ment  of  flowers  in  a  vase,  I  cannot  see.  Nor 
can  I  get  her  to  explain ;  she  prefers  to  say 
that  if  I  cannot  see  for  myself  it  would  be 
useless  for  her  to  try  to  make  me  under 
stand, — a  baffling  inconsequent  remark. 
Nevertheless  I  am  willing  to  believe  that 
some  things  are  too  subtle  for  my  compre 
hension,  and  that  her  instinct  is  invariably 
183 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

to  be  depended  upon ;  also,  that  the  less  I 
express  my  admiration  for  what  I  have 
written,  the  more  open  and  unrestrained  her 
appreciation  will  become.  Consequently, 
although  when  the  first  of  the  Uncle  Benny 
sketches  appeared  in  print  I  laughed  and 
applauded  as  heartily  as  if  the  author  were 
unknown  to  me,  I  learned  to  regard  the 
later  ones  with  almost  gloomy  indifference, 
or  even  to  subject  them  to  adverse  criticism, 
this  course  being  the  one  most  likely  to 
lead  my  wife  to  praise  the  artistic  excellence 
of  my  work. 

Personally,  I  make  no  claim  to  artistic 
excellence, — it  would  be  neither  becoming 
nor  tactful  for  me  to  do  so,, — but  I  may 
mention  that  the  circulation  of  the  Weekly 
Observer  doubled,  and  then  trebled;  also 
that  as  a  result  of  the  popularity  of  Uncle 
Benny  it  soon  became  necessary  to  copy 
right  each  instalment  in  advance  of  publi 
cation  to  prevent  unauthorized  copying  by 
exchanges.  I  have  noticed  that  to  some 
authors  is  given  the  art  of  writing  so  that 
their  work  appeals  to  their  fellow-creatures 
at  a  certain  stage  of  development ;  others, 
184 


Uncle  Benny  Creates  a  Diversion 

again,  have  that  broad  human  sympathy 
that  puts  them  in  touch  with  young  and 
old,  cultured  and  uncultured,  wise  and  fool 
ish.  I  had  no  wish  to  add  to  the  sum  of 
human  wisdom  and  culture,  but  it  was  a 
delight  to  me  that  Uncle  Benny  made 
people  merrier.  Paul,  at  the  age  of  seven, 
William  Wedder,  three  score  years  older, 
were  equally  infatuated.  On  Saturday 
mornings  Paul  would  insist  upon  having 
Uncle  Benny  read  aloud  to  him  during 
breakfast,  then  he  would  carry  off  the  paper 
to  peruse  it  himself  at  leisure,  while  William 
could  ill  conceal  his  impatience  at  having 
to  await  his  turn.  Most  authors  read  their 
own  works  aloud,  in  public,  to  their  friends, 
or  in  the  family  circle ;  I  do  not.  It  is  only 
fair  to  state  that  I  might  not  have  reached 
this  exalted  plane  but  for  my  wife.  It  was 
she  who  made  me  understand  the  injustice, 
the  blind  selfishness,  the  distressing  egotism 
that  permits  an  author,  revelling  in  the  en 
joyment  of  his  own  imaginings,  to  inflict 
them  upon  a  helpless  listener  whose  capac 
ity  for  appreciation  is  so  infinitesimal  in 
comparison.  It  was  she  who  showed  me 
185 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

that  Rossetti's  sketch  of  Tennyson  reading 
Maud  was  not  merely  a  crude  picture  of  the 
great  poet  by  his  friend,  but  a  revelation  of 
the  long  pent-up  sufferings  of  one  who  was 
doomed  to  sit  in  an  attitude  of  attention, 
under  the  watchful  eye  of  The  Author  Who 
Reads  His  Own  Works,  ready  to  respond 
at  a  glance  with  a  nod,  a  smile  or  a  tear. 

Therefore  it  was  Marion  who  read  Uncle 
Benny  to  Paul  and  Aunt  Sophy  and  the 
author;  it  was  I  who,  one  morning  during 
the  reading,  heard  an  unusual  sound  from 
the  kitchen.  Fearing  that  William,  who 
was  taking  his  breakfast  there,  had  at  last 
miscalculated  his  swallowing  capacity  and 
needed  help,  I  quietly  withdrew  from  the 
table  and  opened  the  door  into  the  kitchen. 
To  my  amazement  it  collided  with  William's 
head,  and  he  straightened  himself  up  when 
he  had  recovered  his  equilibrium  and  looked 
at  me  with  flushed  cheeks  and  a  foolish 
smile,  making  no  attempt  at  explanation. 
Did  I  ask  for  one?  Certainly  not.  I 
begged  his  pardon  and  hastened  to  get  the 
liniment  as  if  it  was  a  most  reprehensible 
act  of  mine  to  open  the  door  without  warn- 
186 


Uncle  Benny  Creates  a  Diversion 

ing.  I  felt  angry  and  humiliated  that  he 
had  placed  me  in  such  an  awkward  position, 
but  I  could  not  be  brutal  enough  to  show 
my  resentment  by  accusing  him  of  eaves 
dropping,  especially  when  it  appeared  to  be 
the  case.  When  he  had  recovered  his 
speech  and  remarked  incidentally  that  he 
was  in  the  act  of  picking  up  his  hard-boiled 
egg  which  had  rolled  in  front  of  the  door, 
I  expressed  the  keenest  regret  for  my  care 
lessness  and  assured  him  I  would  be  more 
cautious  in  future. 

Yet  the  revelation  of  his  depravity  was  a 
distinct  shock  to  us  until  I  found  that  it  was 
the  reading  of  Uncle  Benny  that  had  at 
tracted  the  dear  old  man,  and  that  he  could 
not  resist  the  impulse  to  get  within  earshot. 

"  I  may  as  well  own  up,"  he  confessed, 
at  last,  "  that  the  way  the  missis  reads  them 
stories  is  as  refreshin'  to  my  mind  as  rasp 
berry  pies  is  to  my  stomach.  She  do  read 
most  beautiful,  and  when  I  hear  Master 
Paul  chippin'  in  with  them  odd  sayin's  and 
you  and  that  old  lady  laughin'  so  cheery  I 
jest  can't  help  listenin'." 

William's  spontaneous  appreciation  was 
187 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

delightful,  and  I  found  his  admiration  for 
my  fictitious  Uncle  Benny  most  amusing, 
considering  how  unconscious  he  was  that 
I  was  the  author,  and  that  he  cordially  de 
tested  the  original  of  the  character,  Peter 
Waydean.  But  I  ceased  to  enjoy  his  en 
thusiasm  when  it  threatened  to  become  a 
mania,  for  he  unbosomed  himself  one  day 
of  a  plan  he  had  made  to  go  to  the  city  to 
make  the  personal  acquaintance  of  Uncle 
Benny  at  the  Observer  office.  I  tried  to 
dislodge  this  idea,  showing  him  the  absurd 
ity  of  looking  for  a  person  who  probably 
didn't  exist,  but  I  was  mistaken  in  thinking 
my  arguments  effective,  for  in  a  few  days  I 
found  a  letter  at  my  office  addressed  to 
Uncle  Benny  in  William's  crooked  hand 
writing.  I  read  it  with  rising  indignation. 

"  Dear  Uncle  Benny,"  he  wrote.  "  I  am 
unknown  to  you  and  you  to  me  but  your 
writings  has  made  me  feel  as  if  we  was  old 
chums.  I  wanted  to  go  to  the  city  to  have 
a  chat  with  you  but  the  boss  he  kicked.  He 
says  I  might  be  took  up  for  a  lunatic  if  I 
went  to  the  Observer  asking  for  you.  He 
1 88 


Uncle  Benny  Creates  a  Diversion 

says  there  aint  no  such  person  and  if  there 
was  he  would  be  some  young  whip  snap 
that  would  call  the  devil  and  the  hoist  man 
to  run  me  out  for  thinking  he  was  a  old 
man  like  me.  He  says  it  aint  none  of  my 
business  how  old  you  be  and  what  you  look 
like.  He  says  your  blame  curiosity  Will 
iam  might  land  you  in  the  police  cells. 
Now  as  far  as  I  can  make  out  you  must  be 
well  up  in  years  and  you  write  darn  good 
stories.  Now  I  got  one  or  two  good  stories 
about  the  boss  that  is  too  good  to  keep. 
He  aint  a  regular  farmer  and  he  don't  know 
much  about  working  land.  He  says  the 
way  to  make  the  farm  pay  is  to  keep  from 
paying  out  money  on  it  and  when  I  tell  him 
we  need  a  implement  he  asks  how  much 
will  it  cost  and  when  I  tell  him  he  puts  that 
much  in  the  bank  and  says  we  can  do  with 
out.  There  aint  a  implement  on  the  place 
but  three.  That  shows  what  kind  of  a  man 
he  is  but  I  ain't  going  to  let  him  scare  me 
off  if  you  drop  me  a  line  to  say  you  want 
to  hear  them  stories. 

"  WILLIAM  WEDDER." 


189 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

It  was  well  that  I  was  not  within  reach  of 
William  when  I  read  his  epistle,  for  my 
wrath  would  have  descended  upon  him,  but 
having  time  to  think  it  over  before  I  reached 
home  I  concluded  to  preserve  my  incognito 
by  ignoring  the  matter ;  besides,  I  was  ex 
ceptionally  busy  that  week  as  Aunt  Sophy's 
wedding  was  near  at  hand,  and  I  could  not 
afford  to  risk  the  loss  of  his  services  at  such 
a  time. 

As  I  neared  the  house  that  afternoon  I 
heard  loud  voices  in  the  yard,  and  when  I 
got  within  sight  I  saw  my  hired  man  and 
Peter  Waydean  walking  around  each  other 
in  the  attitude  of  quarrelsome  dogs  about 
to  spring. 

"  I  tell  you,"  snarled  Peter,  "  them  darn 
hens  has  been  living  on  my  field  peas,  and 
I  believe  you  drove  them  over  there  in  the 
first  place." 

"  And  I  tell  you,"  snapped  William, 
"  your  cattle  has  broke  down  the  fence  and 
got  into  my  corn  twice  this  week,  and  your 
blame  hogs " 

At  this  point  I  intervened.  Peter  claimed 
that  his  crop  of  peas  had  been  so  destroyed 
190 


Uncle  Benny  Creates  a  Diversion 

by  fowls  that  it  couldn't  be  harvested ;  he 
hadn't  actually  seen  my  hens  at  work,  he 
admitted,  but  they  must  have  done  the  dam 
age.  In  rebuttal,  William  contended  that 
our  fowls  were  honest  well-conducted  stay- 
at-homes;  they  weren't  driven  away  to 
forage  on  other  people's  garden  stuff  like 
some  cattle  and  hogs. 

"  What's  a  few  corn-stalks  ? "  shouted 
Peter. 

"  What's  a  few  peas  ?  "  retorted  William. 

Again  I  interposed,  but  I  had  to  send 
William  away  to  milk  before  my  landlord 
could  be  placated  enough  to  lower  his  voice 
to  a  reasonable  pitch,  then  my  anger  sud 
denly  flamed  to  a  white  heat.  I  had  in 
tended  to  soothe  his  ruffled  feelings  by  pay 
ing  for  the  damage,  but  instead,  I  found  my 
self  resenting  the  imputation  that  my  hens, 
brought  up  from  the  shell  to  habits  of  virtue 
and  propriety,  could  be  guilty  of  such  dis 
honesty.  Still,  my  tone  was  calm  and  my 
manner  patronizing  as  I  challenged  him  to 
prove  his  charge;  then  before  he  had  re 
covered  from  his  astonishment  I  advised 
him  to  overcome  the  besetting  sin  of  avarice 
191 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

that  prompted  him  to  swindle  me  in  every 
possible  way. 

I  saw  that  he  knew  his  own  weakness,  he 
was  so  stung  by  my  words ;  but  there  was 
more  of  malicious  triumph  than  of  blind 
anger  in  the  ring  of  his  voice.  "  Proof !  " 
he  ejaculated  contemptuously.  "  The  kind 
of  proof  you'll  get  is  to  have  them  hens 
come  home  without  their  feathers  on  if  I 
catch  them  in  my  fields.  I've  a  bit  of  news 
for  you,"  he  went  on,  with  a  grin  of  satis 
faction.  "  I've  had  two  good  offers  to  sell 
the  place  and  I  was  going  to  give  you  the 
chance  of  topping  them,  but  now  that 
you've  broke  out  into  insulting  language  I 
wouldn't  sell  to  you  if  you  offered  me  ten 
thousand  dollars." 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  I  repressed  my 
amusement;  he  was  so  obviously  unsus 
picious  that  I  was  a  bidder,  and  when  I 
assured  him  that  the  news  didn't  cause  me 
any  concern  he  grew  still  more  angry. 

"  I'll  go  to  the  city  to-morrow,"  he  threat 
ened  me,  "  and  I'll  sell  to  whichever  of  them 
two  men  wants  to  live  on  the  place,  and 
you'll  have  to  move  when  your  lease  is  up." 
192 


Uncle  Benny  Creates  a  Diversion 

Again  I  smiled;  nothing  he  could  do 
would  suit  me  better  than  to  have  him  hurry 
up  in  closing  the  bargain,  but  I  tried  to 
look  as  if  my  smile  were  forced  to  hide  my 
disappointment.  Peter  glanced  at  me  sus 
piciously  as  he  turned  away. 

It  is  quite  an  ordinary  occurrence  to  have 
one's  chickens  come  home  to  roost,  but  not 
without  their  feathers,  as  two  of  mine  did 
the  next  day.  I  could  not  look  at  them 
without  a  shudder,  yet  I  could  not  keep  from 
looking  at  them,  and  until  Marion  clothed 
them  in  two  tiny  shirts  that  Paul  had  worn 
in  his  infancy  I  could  not  smile  at  the  fasci 
nating  absurdity  of  their  appearance  and 
the  consternation  of  their  friends  and  rela 
tives.  It  was  only  too  clear  why  Peter  had 
not  carried  out  his  threat  of  going  to  the 
city  that  day  to  close  the  sale  of  the  place ; 
he  had  been  lying  in  wait  for  my  unfortu 
nate  chickens  in  his  pea-field.  My  blood 
boiled  at  the  thought  of  how  the  malevolent 
rascal  must  be  chuckling  over  the  way  he 
had  proved  his  case,  but  my  anger  was 
trifling  in  comparison  with  William's. 

"  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Carton,"  he  affirmed, 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

"  I'll  pay  him  back.  I'll  make  him  the 
laughin'  stock  of  the  county.  Let  me  catch 
one  of  his  critters  on  this  side  of  the  fence, 
and  he  won't  be  able  to  tell  whether  it's  a 
bird  of  the  air  or  a  beast  of  the  field  when  it 
goes  home." 


194 


M 


XI 

THE  WEDDING-DAY. 

Y  cheerful,  almost  sprightly  manner, 
at  breakfast  on  the  morning  of 
Aunt  Sophy's  wedding-day  cost  me  an  ef 
fort,  for  instead  of  being  able  to  make 
Marion  a  present  of  Waydean,  as  I  had 
planned,  I  was  compelled  to  conceal  the  de 
pression  I  felt  at  the  news  from  my  agent 
that  Peter  had  sold  the  place  to  the  "  other 
party,"  Roper's  client.  I  noticed,  during 
breakfast,  that  Marion  and  Aunt  Sophy 
were  continually  exchanging  confidential 
smiles  and  glances  that  were  not  intended 
to  include  me,  for  they  looked  consciously 
unconscious  and  avoided  my  eyes  when  I 
happened  to  intercept  one  of  the  silent 
messages.  Still,  I  was  so  engaged  in  look 
ing  happy  and  free  from  care  that  the  idea 
of  Marion  having  prepared  a  surprise  for 
me  never  entered  my  mind,  although  I 
wondered,  when  she  handed  me  my  mail 
I9S 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

which  William  had  brought  from  the  post- 
office,  why  they  both  stared  at  me  with  such 
an  appearance  of  eager  expectation.  At 
the  bottom  of  the  pile  my  eye  was  attracted 
by  an  envelope  with,  "  Bates  and  Roper, 
Land  Agents,"  printed  in  one  corner.  It 
was  addressed  to  Marion,  and  as  I  held  it  up 
inquiringly  she  clapped  her  hands  with  de 
light  and  urged  me  with  impatient  vehem 
ence  to  read  it.  With  a  sickening  premoni 
tion  of  what  was  coming  I  drew  out  the 
enclosure  with  trembling  fingers  and  read 
a  formal  notification  from  the  firm  to  Mrs. 
Henry  Carton  that  they  had,  according  to 
instructions,  made  an  agreement  with  Peter 
Waydean  for  the  purchase  of  his  farm  for 
the  sum  of  five  thousand,  one  hundred  dol 
lars.  For  a  moment  I  forgot  Marion  and 
Paul  and  Aunt  Sophy  as  I  stared  at  the 
paper  with  open  mouth  and  distended  eyes, 
a  ghastly  gray-green  pallor,  so  Marion  told 
me  afterwards,  spreading  over  my  face.  A 
smothered  shriek  of  alarm  and  the  first 
strident  prolonged  note  of  Paul's  howl 
brought  me  to  my  senses ;  my  eyes  turned 
slowly  with  the  glassy  stare  of  an  owl.  I 
196 


The  Wedding-Day 

had  a  jumbled  idea  that  Marion's  money 
was  gone,  also  mine,  also  the  farm ;  we  had 
been  bidding  against  each  other  and  were 
ruined. 

"  What  is  it,  Henry  ? "  gasped  Aunt 
Sophy,  pressing  one  hand  to  her  side  and 
breathing  heavily. 

"  Speak,  Henry !  "  cried  Marion. 

"  We've  been  sold — buncoed — duped. 
Old  Peter—"  I  began  thickly. 

"  You  goose !  "  exclaimed  Marion,  with  a 
laugh  of  sudden  relief.  "  You  misunder 
stand  the  letter.  Of  course  old  Peter  has 
sold  the  place,  but  to  me ! — to  me — do  you 
understand?  And  I  hereby  make  you  a 
present  of  it  to-day,  because " 

"  Because  it's  my  wedding-day,"  inter 
jected  Aunt  Sophy,  wiping  away  tears  of 
happiness.  "  I  thought  I'd  like  to  see  how 
pleased  and  proud  you'd  look  before  I  go." 

I  awoke  to  my  responsibilities  and  made 
a  sickly  attempt  to  look  gratified.  "  What 
a — joyful  surprise !  "  I  stammered.  "  Aw 
fully  obliged — not  so  much  for — pecuniary 
value — as  a  token  of — the  day  that — " 
My  voice  was  lost  in  a  peal  of  laughter. 
197 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

"  Oh,  how  funny !  Just  like  your  Uncle 
Philip,  Marion." 

"  He  always  will  have  his  little  joke, 
Auntie.  Come  now,  Henry,  do  be  serious, 
and  I'll  tell  you  what  a  narrow  escape  we 
had.  There  was  another  man — Mr.  Roper 
called  him  a  '  party  ' — after  the  place." 

"  After  the  place !  "  I  repeated,  with  pro 
found  incredulity. 

"  There  now — I  thought  you'd  be 
startled.  This  man  had  employed  Mr. 
Brooks  to  negotiate  with  Peter,  and  he  kept 
bidding  higher  and  higher  till  I  was  awfully 
afraid  he'd  get  it.  Then  I  got  desperate, 
and  I  drew  the  hundred  dollars  that  I  had 
in  the  savings  bank,  for  I  had  an  idea  that 
the  '  party  '  would  stop  at  five  thousand — 
and  he  did — and  just  yesterday  Peter  signed 
the  agreement,  and  I  have  the  cheque  for 
five  thousand  one  hundred  dollars  all  ready 
to  pay  over  as  soon  as  the  legal  documents 
are  signed." 

"  Well,"  I  commented,  drawing  a  long 
breath,  "  it's  a  good  thing  he  stopped." 

"  And  wasn't  Marion  clever  to  manage 
so  well  ?  "  asked  Aunt  Sophy. 
198 


The  Wedding-Day 

"  She  was  indeed,"  I  responded  warmly. 
"  I  would  have  given  up  at  five  thousand." 

Then  Marion  wondered  who  the  man 
was,  speaking  as  if  he  had  ceased  to  exist, 
and  so  did  Aunt  Sophy.  I  was  on  the  point 
of  wondering  also,  when  it  struck  me  that 
I  could  not  truthfully  do  so,  and  I  merely 
said  that  as  I  knew  Brooks  pretty  well  he 
would  probably  mention  the  man's  name  to 
me,  a  statement  that  was  unassailable  even 
from  Marion's  pinnacle  of  morality,  and  one 
that  helped  me  to  keep  my  secret  until  after 
Aunt  Sophy's  departure. 

It  was  well  that  I  had  completed  my  ar 
rangements  the  day  before,  for  I  was  so 
distraught  by  the  ordeal  I  had  passed 
through  that  I  had  difficulty  even  in  re 
membering  that  I  must  hurry  away  to  the 
station  to  meet  Mr.  Fairman,  who  was  due 
to  arrive  on  the  ten  o'clock  train,  and  must 
be  entertained  by  me  until  the  minister  ap 
peared  to  perform  the  marriage  ceremony 
at  eleven.  Not  having  an  equipage  of  my 
own,  I  had  hired  the  most  presentable  one 
to  be  found  in  the  neighborhood,  and  the 
horse  being  warranted  tractable  by  his 
199 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

owner,  Joe  Wrigley,  I  had  no  hesitation  in 
driving  to  the  station  and  back  myself,  al 
though  as  a  usual  thing,  if  I  have  to  be  near 
a  horse  I  prefer  to  be  in  a  position  where  I 
can  look  him  in  the  eye. 

I  had  been  rather  irritated  by  William's 
behavior  that  morning,  for  he  had  disap 
peared  for  an  hour  after  breakfast  just  when 
I  most  needed  him,  and  when  he  did  appear 
he  explained  that  he  had  been  busy  in  the 
smokehouse  rigging  up  a  scarecrow  and 
hadn't  heard  me  calling  him.  This  excuse 
seemed  plausible  at  the  time,  though  I  re 
membered  afterwards  it  was  not  the  season 
to  scare  crows,  for  he  had  got  permission 
from  Marion  the  day  before  to  take  a  dis 
carded  sun-bonnet  of  hers  and  a  pair  of 
Paul's  long  rubber  boots  for  the  purpose, 
so  I  warned  him  to  be  at  the  gate  to  open  it 
when  I  returned,  and  drove  away.  It  was 
not  until  it  was  too  late  to  turn  back  that  I 
found  the  reins  were  sticky  with  grafting 
wax  where  William  had  held  them,  and  that 
it  had  melted  with  the  warmth  of  my  hands 
and  ruined  my  new  gloves.  It  was  while  I 
was  trying  to  scrape  the  wax  off  with  my 
200 


The  Wedding-Day 

pocket  knife  that  Peter  Waydean  stopped 
me  to  ask  if  I  had  seen  a  pig  of  his  that  had 
been  missing  since  the  day  before.  It  was 
the  first  time  I  had  seen  him  since  our 
quarrel,  so  I  answered  briefly  in  the  nega 
tive  and  drove  on,  but  I  noticed  that  he 
looked  after  me  with  surly  suspicion,  as  if 
he  thought  I  had  it  concealed  under  the 
seat. 

Now  when  I  returned  half  an  hour  later 
I  was  engrossed  in  conversation  with  Mr. 
Fairman,  and  I  had  forgotten  all  about 
Peter's  quest.  The  horse  was  trotting 
along  at  a  creditable  pace  ;  Mr.  Fairman  sat 
upright  beside  me  in  starched  and  immacu 
late  apparel,  trying  to  appear  unconcerned 
about  his  approaching  fate ;  I,  flicking  the 
animal  in  the  most  artfully  casual  manner 
to  keep  him  going,  had  on  my  best  com 
pany  manners.  Perhaps  this  phrase  may 
suggest  effort,  constraint,  artificiality,  but  I 
have  been  told  by  Marion  that  no  one  could 
possibly  be  more  charming  in  manner  than 
I,  when  I  choose  to  be  agreeable,  but  that 
when  I — but  there,  I  like  to  take  the  sweet 
without  the  bitter,  and  the  rest  is  quite  ir- 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

relevant.  I  was  suave,  genial,  sympathetic ; 
Mr.  Fairman,  in  that  blissfully  exalted 
mood  so  natural  to  the  occasion,  had  just 
drawn  my  attention  to  the  idyllic  beauty  of 
Nature's  autumn  garb,  when  suddenly  up 
from  the  dry  ditch  at  the  roadside  stumbled 
Peter  Waydean,  a  dishevelled,  disreputable 
blot  upon  the  scene.  Frantically  waving 
his  arms,  he  shouted  an  invitation  to  me  to 
stop  and  give  him  a  chance  to  do  me  up. 
I  had  an  idea  that  he  called  me  a  pig,  but  we 
were  bowling  along  at  such  a  rate  that  I 
couldn't  be  sure  of  his  words,  though  there 
could  be  no  doubt  of  his  general  intentions. 
For  various  reasons  I  did  not  attempt  to 
stop,  and  my  attention  was  immediately  dis 
tracted  from  him  by  the  sight  of  Marion's 
old  sun-bonnet  bobbing  up  and  down  in  the 
ditch  some  distance  ahead.  If  it  had  been 
hanging  on  a  tree  or  lying  on  the  roadside,  I 
would  have  been  quite  surprised,  but  to  see 
it  travel  along  with  unvarying  speed  and 
apparent  dogged  intention  in  a  straight  line 
along  the  inner  side  of  the  ditch  seemed 
very  like  a  miracle.  That  it  could  do  so 
without  legs  was  inconceivable ;  that  legs 
202 


The  Wedding-Day 

could  belong  to  it  was  marvellous,  but  if  so, 
how  many,  what  size  and  shape  ?  I  whipped 
up  the  horse,  with  a  passing  glance  at  Mr. 
Fairman.  His  eyes  were  riveted  on  the 
bonnet  with  eager  wonderment ;  he  had 
plainly  forgotten  for  the  moment  that  he 
was  on  his  way  to  his  wedding.  As  we 
neared  the  lower  level  of  the  road  we  were 
slightly  ahead,  and  I  checked  the  speed  of 
the  horse  at  the  foot  of  a  slope  where  the 
ditch  ended ;  just  in  time,  for  like  a  dissolv 
ing  view  there  dashed  across  the  road  di 
rectly  in  front  of  us  the  most  grotesque 
object  in  the  way  of  a  quadruped  that  could 
be  imagined.  Its  head  was  hidden  in  the 
sun-bonnet ;  the  short  fore-feet  were  com 
pletely  encased  in  Paul's  worn-out  rubber 
boots  ;  the  body,  instead  of  being  hairy,  was 
feathered  like  that  of  a  Plymouth  Rock  hen  ; 
around  the  hind  legs  flapped  a  tiny  pair  of 
blue  trousers — only  a  curly  little  tail  re 
mained  to  show  it  was  a  pig. 

It  came ;  it  vanished.     At  the  same  in 
stant  Joe  Wrigley's  horse  stood  up  very 
straight  on  his  hind  legs  and  then  prepared 
to  sit  down  on  our  laps.     Without  a  word, 
203 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

Mr.  Fairman  leaned  sideways  and  tried  to 
climb  head  first  over  the  wheel.  I  had  just 
time  to  rescue  him  by  seizing  his  coat-tails 
with  one  hand  while  I  lashed  the  horse  with 
the  whip.  The  effect  of  that  blow  was  elec 
trical,  for  with  a  bound  the  animal  sprang 
forward  at  a  pace  that  first  astonished, 
and  then  alarmed  me.  We  passed  the  Way- 
dean  gate  at  racing  speed,  and  in  a  fleeting 
glimpse  of  William  as  he  stood  there  I  saw 
a  broad  grin  merge  into  open-mouthed 
horror,  and  I  had  the  grim  satisfaction  of 
knowing  that  the  enjoyment  of  his  nandi- 
work  was  swallowed  up  in  remorse.  In 
vain  I  tugged  at  the  reins ;  the  horse  had 
the  bit  between  his  teeth,  and  the  only  effect 
was  to  slacken  the  traces  and  put  the  strain 
of  drawing  the  vehicle  on  my  arms.  Per 
haps  if  I  had  been  alone  I  would  have  felt 
afraid  and  have  resigned  myself  to  disaster, 
but  I  was  filled  with  a  fierce  resolve  to  save 
Mr.  Fairman  and  see  him  safely  married, 
as  arranged. 

He  sat  bolt  upright  now,  his  face  pale  and 
drawn  as  he  gripped  the  seat  with  both 
hands.     I  had  no  breath  to  waste,  so  I  re- 
204 


The  Wedding-Day 

mained  silent  until  he  said,  in  feeble  gasps: 
"  I  think — perhaps — I'd  better — get  out." 

It  was  then  that  my  mind  reached  an  alti 
tude  of  far-seeing  clear-sighted  wisdom  that, 
under  the  perilous  circumstances,  was  akin 
to  inspiration.  Although  ordinary  men 
similarly  placed  would  have  reviewed  their 
past  misdeeds,  or  have  looked  forward  with 
selfish  misgiving  to  approaching  dissolu 
tion,  I  did  not  think  of  my  own  danger ;  my 
mind  was  fully  occupied  with  the  problem 
of  how  to  save  my  companion  for  his  mar 
riage  at  eleven  o'clock.  In  case  this  mental 
attitude  may  seem  heroic,  I  wish  to  say 
frankly  that  it  didn't  seem  so  to  me ;  if  it 
should  be  supposed  that  the  impulse  was  a 
noble  one,  let  me  say  that  I  had  no  intention 
of  acting  nobly ;  I  also  bitterly  repel  Mar 
ion's  insinuation  that  it  was  an  ignoble  one. 
The  fact  is,  it  did  not  occur  to  me  that  I 
should  analyze  my  motive,  but  if  I  had 
known  how  I  would  be  catechized  later  I 
would  have  done  so,  and  thus  have  avoided 
trouble. 

As  he  spoke,  Mr.  Fairman  gazed  with 
longing  eyes  at  the  ground  that  seemed  so 
205 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

invitingly  near,  with  only  the  upper  half  of 
a  rapidly  revolving  wheel  to  bar  his  descent. 
I  knew  that  if  I  left  him  to  himself  he  would 
take  that  fatal  jump,  yet  I  could  not  have 
moved  a  finger  to  stop  him,  for  I  dared  not 
relax  my  hold  on  the  reins.  I  must  over 
come  with  calm  and  decisive  reasoning  the 
alluring  idea  that  had  taken  possession  of 
him. 

"  Mr.  Fairman,"  I  said,  with  quiet  au 
thority,  "  there  is — no  cause — for  alarm." 
He  looked  beseechingly  at  me,  and  I  felt 
encouraged.  "  If  you — jumped —  '  I  con 
tinued  jerkily,  my  words  punctuated  by  the 
jolting  of  the  vehicle,  "  you  would  either — 
be  killed — "  he  shuddered — "  or  mangled." 
He  stared  at  me  with  dumb  appeal.  "  If 
the  buggy  were — in  front — of  a  runaway 
horse — we'd  have  to  jump,  but  since — we're 
behind — our  best  plan  is  to  remain — seated 
— as  long  as — possible."  A  faint  smile 
flickered  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 
"  We're  absolutely  safe—"  I  urged,  "  on  the 
seat — but  danger  begins  when  we — leave 
it." 

Mr.  Fairman  gulped.  "  I  see,"  he  said ; 
206 


The  Wedding-Day 

"  you've    got    a    head.     Don't — let    me — 
jump." 

I  needed  all  the  head  I  had,  for  while  the 
road  had  been  clear  so  far,  I  descried  a  load 
of  hay  on  the  narrow  bridge  that  stretched 
over  the  little  river  in  front  of  us.  There 
was  no  chance  of  passing  to  one  side,  and  I 
wondered  whether  the  horse  would  try  to 
plunge  through  the  load  or  jump  over  the 
railing  of  the  bridge.  He  did  neither,  for  I 
saw  just  in  time  that  a  track  led  down  to  the 
river,  where  farmers  drove  through  when 
the  water  was  low.  Pulling  with  all  my 
strength  on  one  rein,  I  managed  to  turn  the 
horse  off  the  main  road  and  we  headed 
straight  for  the  river.  A  shout  of  horror 
arose  from  my  companion,  and  I  had  to 
drop  the  reins  and  clasp  him  in  my  arms  to 
keep  him  from  jumping  out.  There  was  a 
mighty  splash,  a  sudden  shock  that  almost 
flung  us  over  the  dashboard,  and  then  Joe 
Wrigley's  horse  walked, — yes  walked,  calm 
ly  and  sedately  to  the  opposite  shore.  We 
were  safe  and  dry-shod,  but  alas ! — stranded 
in  mid-stream.  The  horse  had  the  shafts ; 
we  had  the  buggy.  I  looked  at  my  watch ; 
207 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

time,  twenty-five  minutes  to  eleven.  We 
were  a  mile  beyond  Waydean,  but  it  was 
possible  to  walk  there  in  twenty  minutes,  if 
we  could  get  to  dry  land.  No  one  was  in 
sight  along  the  road,  and  the  load  of  hay 
had  lumbered  on,  the  driver  happily  un 
conscious  of  how  he  had  been  saved  from 
sudden  disaster.  Mr.  Fairman,  though  still 
pale  and  agitated,  had  recovered  enough  to 
remember  his  appointment,  and  was  dis 
mayed  at  our  situation.  I  had  to  give  up, 
regretfully,  for  want  of  time,  a  fascinating 
plan  of  taking  off  the  buggy-top  to  float 
shorewards  in ;  a  glance  at  his  gleaming 
boots  and  irreproachable  trousers  caused 
me  to  scout  the  thought  of  his  wading; 
there  was  but  one  course  open  to  me.  With 
many  apologies  I  removed  my  lower  gar 
ments  ;  with  more  apologies  I  begged  Mr. 
Fairman  to  do  me  the  favor  of  carrying 
them,  and  stepped  into  the  water.  Then  I 
showed  him  how  to  gather  the  skirts  of  his 
coat  under  his  arms,  get  on  my  back  and 
hold  his  legs  straight  out  to  keep  them  from 
touching  the  water.  He  politely  protested ; 
I  insisted ;  he  yielded.  I  am  almost  certain 
208 


The .  Wedding-Day 

I  heard  him  chuckle  on  the  journey ;  I  knew 
he  vibrated  in  a  suspicious  manner;  but 
when  I  set  him  down  on  shore  he  was  quite 
solemn  in  thanking  me,  and  his  eyes  were 
moist  with  emotion  as  he  watched  me  dry 
myself  with  the  buggy-duster  and  get  into 
my  clothes. 

In  my  young  days  I  often  wished  I  could 
have  an  opportunity  to  save  a  human  life ; 
indeed,  I  have  always  held  myself  in  readi 
ness  to  plunge  into  any  depth  of  water  up 
to  four  feet  if  occasion  should  arise,  and  it 
is  all  the  more  remarkable  that  I  really 
didn't  think  of  having  saved  Mr.  Fairman's 
life  until  he  mentioned  it.  But  when  I 
looked  back  I  saw  that  I  had  saved  him  at 
least  four  times  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 
First,  by  not  abandoning  my  post  when 
the  horse  tried  to  sit  down  in  the  buggy ; 
second,  by  overcoming  his  impulse  to  jump 
out  by  my  cold  dispassionate  logic ;  third, 
by  holding  him  in  the  seat  when  we  ap 
proached  the  river ;  fourth,  by  rescuing  him 
from  the  shipwrecked  buggy  in  perfect  con 
dition  for  his  wedding. 

When  we  met  William  Wedder  hurrying 
209 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

along  the  road  in  search  of  us,  his  anxious 
and  crestfallen  air  showing  how  much  he  re 
gretted  having  been  the  cause  of  the  acci 
dent,  I  did  not  stop  to  reproach  him  but 
sent  him  on  to  bring  the  horse  and  buggy  to 
Waydean.  Fortunately,  Aunt  Sophy  and 
Marion,  knowing  nothing  of  our  adventure, 
had  been  spared  much  anxiety,  and  it  was 
not  until  after  the  brief  marriage  ceremony 
that  Mr.  Fairman  related  how,  but  for  my 
heroic  conduct,  Aunt  Sophy  would  not  now 
be  Mrs.  Fairman.  I  must  say  he  did  me  a 
little  more  than  justice,  and  I  did  my  best 
to  faintly  depreciate  my  heroism.  I  found 
Aunt  Sophy's  warm-hearted  and  impulsive 
demonstration  most  embarrassing,  but  it 
was  a  peculiar  expression  of  scepticism  on 
Marion's  face  that  made  me  wish  I  had  not 
been  accused  of  acting  heroically. 

It  was  not  until  the  Fairmans  had  de 
parted  and  the  flutter  of  Aunt  Sophy's 
handkerchief  from  the  car-window  was  no 
longer  visible  that  Marion  had  a  chance  to 
speak  to  me  alone ;  then  she  lost  no  time. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  turning  to  me  with  an 
impatient  little  tap  of  her  foot,  "  I  want  to 
210 


The  Wedding-Day 

know  the  truth  about  that  horse.  Didn't 
you  only  pretend  he  ran  away  ?  " 

"  Pretend !  "  I  exclaimed,  with  rightful 
indignation,  the  muscles  of  my  arms  still 
tingling  with  the  strain. 

"  Yes,"  she  insisted,  with  the  resolute 
look  that  I  knew  only  too  well ;  a  look 
meaning  that  no  matter  what  the  evidence  I 
would  be  adjudged  guilty;  naturally,  I 
flushed  under  her  gaze.  "  I  knew  from 
your  manner  that  you  had  done  something 
you  were  ashamed  of.  Did  you  do  it  for 
one  of  those  insane  practical  jokes,  or  be 
cause  you  wanted  to  convince  Mr.  Fairman 
that  you  are  the  paragon  that  Aunt  Sophy 
thinks  you?  " 

My  irritation  vanished ;  being  innocent,  I 
could  forgive  my  wife's  suspicion.  "  The 
fact  is,  Marion,"  I  explained,  with  complete 
candor,  "  that  brute  of  Joe  Wrigley's  had 
the  bit  between  his  teeth  and  I  couldn't  stop 
him." 

She  laughed  scornfully.     "  He  had  the 

bit  between  his  teeth !     Just  what  you  told 

poor  Mr.  Fairman.     May  I  ask  where  you 

would  have  liked  his  bit  to  be?     Between 

211 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

his  eyes  or  his  ears,  perhaps.  If  you  had 
a  bit  in  your  mouth  wouldn't  it  have  to  be 
between  your  teeth  ?  " 

I  knew  her  argument  was  defective,  but  I 
got  too  flustered  to  think  where  the  weak 
ness  lay,  for  I  felt  the  matter  was  getting 
serious.  It  is  one  thing  to  have  the  satis 
faction  of  showing  your  wife  that  she  has 
made  a  blunder;  it  is  another  to  confirm 
her  suspicions  by  your  denial.  In  the  end 
she  did  appear  to  believe  that  the  horse  ran 
away  and  that  I  really  had  tried,  with  some 
small  measure  of  success,  to  save  Mr.  Fair- 
man's  life,  but  that  didn't  end  the  matter. 
Marion  has  unusual  psychological  insight. 
Not  only  can  she  unearth  thoughts  and  mo 
tives  that  I  am  conscious  of  having,  but  she 
can  go  deeper  still,  delving  into  unexplored 
regions  of  sub-consciousness  to  find  the 
thoughts  and  motives  that  I  am  not  aware 
of  having. 

"  How  strange !  "  she  mused.  "  You 
had  time  to  think  of  so  much  in  those  few 
minutes.  Did  I  understand  you  to  say  that 
your  one  idea  was  to  save  Mr.  Fairman  ?  " 

"  Well,  that  was  the  dominant  one.    The 

212 


The  Wedding-Day 

other  thoughts  that  flashed  through  my 
mind  were  all  dependent  on  it,  as  the  tones 
of  a  musical  scale  are  related  to  the  tonic." 

Not  once  in  years  do  I  think  of  so  apt  an 
illustration  within  five  minutes  of  the  time 
I  need  it,  and  I  was  so  wrapped  up  in  con 
ceit  of  my  remark  that  I  walked,  open-eyed 
but  unseeing,  into  the  most  transparent  pit 
fall.  Knowing,  in  my  innocence,  that  I 
had  nothing  to  conceal,  I  forgot  for  the 
time  that  I  must  be  on  my  guard  against 
Marion's  digging  up  something  that  wasn't 
there. 

"  And  you  never  considered,"  she  asked, 
"  how  dreadful  it  would  be  for  Paul  and  me 
if  anything  happened  to  you?  " 

"  It  never  entered  my  mind,"  I  answered 
confidently,  "  but  I  can  tell  you  I  was  afraid 
the  old  gentleman  would  be  killed  or  man 
gled  before  he  was  married — then  where 
would  Aunt  Sophy  have  been?  " 

"  Where  would  Aunt  Sophy  have  been?  " 

"  Don't  you  see,"   I  explained,  with  a 

confidential  lowering  of  my  voice,  "  that  if 

he  had  been  killed  before  the  ceremony  she 

would   have    been    left   out    in    the   cold; 

213 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

whereas,  afterwards  it  wouldn't  matter — ah 
— so  much." 

"  Wouldn't  matter— so " 

"  In  a  pecuniary  sense,"  I  interjected 
nervously.  "  I  know  she'd  be  heartbroken 
and  all  that,  but  as  a  widow — I  mean,  as  his 
widow — she'd  be  wealthy,  and — and — she'd 
get  over " 

By  Marion's  stony  glare  I  knew  I  had 
struck  quicksand ;  I  felt  myself  sinking  and 
made  one  despairing  effort  to  recover  my 
footing.  "  Of  course,  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  if  I  didn't  pull  him  through  safely,  I'd 
give  back  my  five  thousand  to  Aunt  Sophy, 
but —  Good  Heavens  !  Marion — what's 
the  matter?  " 

It  has  been  my  lot  to  arouse  anger,  sor 
row,  despair,  scorn,  and  various  other  senti 
ments  consecutively,  but  never  before  had 
I  seen  them  expressed  in  one  composite 
glance. 

"  So  that  was  your  motive,"  she  said, 
with  stinging,  withering  emphasis.  "  You 
clutched  Mr.  Fairman  as  a  miser  might 
clutch  his  hoard  if  his  house  took  fire.  It 
wasn't  to  save  his  life ;  it  wasn't  for  Aunt 
214 


The  Wedding-Day 

Sophy's  sake ;  he  was  merely  a  money  sack. 
Henry,  if  you  hadn't  confessed  it  yourself 
I  wouldn't  have  believed  you  were  such  a 
mercenary  wretch.  No  wonder  you  looked 
ashamed." 

We  had  just  reached  the  house,  and  I 
had  no  chance  to  clear  my  character  before 
Marion  ran  upstairs  and  locked  herself  in 
her  room,  so  I  thought  it  politic  to  leave 
her  in  silence  for  a  while.  I  was  bristling 
with  indignation,  for  while  I  hadn't  pre 
tended  that  my  conduct  was  praiseworthy, 
I  knew  that  I  had  not  been  cold-blooded 
and  calculating  enough  to  try  to  save  Mr. 
Fairman  from  the  motive  she  had  sug 
gested.  Indeed,  I  saw  that  the  explanation 
that  I  had  formulated  in  response  to  Mar 
ion's  insistent  questions  had  no  foundation 
in  fact,  except  possibly  a  fragmentary  im 
pression  that  may  have  flashed  across  my 
mind  for  an  instant  during  our  imminent 
peril,  yet  I  had  been  thick-headed  enough 
to  make  it  appear  that  I  had  been  influ 
enced  by  these  considerations  instead  of 
confessing  that  I  had  invented  them  as  an 
afterthought.  I  knew  I  should  be  able  to 
215 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

make  Marion  see  the  matter  in  this  light 
when  she  had  been  sufficiently  long  in  se 
clusion  ;  in  the  meantime,  I  went  around 
to  the  rear  of  the  house  to  find  William 
Wedder  and  to  settle  my  score  with  him. 

I  met  him  looking  for  me,  dressed  up  in 
his  best  clothes  and  carrying  his  red  bundle 
and  stick. 

"  William,"  I  said,  in  my  most  austere 
manner,  "  I  haven't  had  a  chance  to  tell  you 
what  I  think  of  your  con 

"  No,  sir,"  he  broke  in,  "  and  I'm  not 
calculatin'  to  give  you  a  chance.  I'm 
off." 

"  You're — off !  "  I  ejaculated,  my  anger 
suddenly  displaced  by  dismay.  "  What — 
what's  the  matter?  " 

"  Well,  sir,"  answered  William,  his  face 
broadening  to  a  grin,  "  there's  several  rea 
sons  why  I'd  better  be  off.  One  is,  I'd 
rather  go  than  be  sacked ;  then,  old  Way- 
dean,  he's  took  the  notion  that  I  dressed 
up  his  pig,  and  Joe  Wrigley  says  he's  gone 
to  swear  out  a  summons." 

His  manner  was  so  coy,  so  engaging,  so 
innocently  virtuous  and  forbearing,  that  I 
216 


The  Wedding-Day 

could  not  refrain  from  an  encouraging 
smile ;  somehow  I  seemed  to  know  exactly 
how  he  felt — perhaps  I,  too,  in  some  previ 
ous  state  of  existence,  had  found  it  ex 
pedient  to  appear  to  know  less  than  I  did 
know. 

"  What  became  of  the  pig,  William?  "  I 
asked,  in  a  tone  that  conveyed,  I  fear,  more 
sympathy  than  reproof. 

"  After  you  drove  off  so  fast,"  he  replied, 
"  it  turned  onto  the  Stone  Road,  with  old 
Waydean  close  behind,  and  that  was  the 
last  I  seen  of  them,  but  Joe  Wrigley  says 
they  met  a  funeral  near  the  Stone  Road 
Cemetery,  and  there  was  a  regular  circus ; 
after  it  was  over  I  seen  people  drivin'  past 
here  lookin'  as  if  they'd  been  at  a  Punch 
and  Judy  show." 

I  smiled  appreciatively,  feeling  a  soften 
ing  toward  William  in  view  of  the  enter 
tainment  he  had  provided,  but  I  saw  it 
would  be  wiser  for  him  to  leave  than  to  wait 
for  Peter's  revenge.  There  was  one  more 
point  that  puzzled  me. 

"  How  did  you  fasten  those  boots  on  the 
pig?"  I  asked. 

217 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

There  was  a  momentary  triumphant 
gleam  in  his  eyes,  then  they  opened  wide 
with  innocent  frankness  as  he  spoke.  "  Joe 
Wrigley  says  there  was  a  wad  of  graftin' 
wax  in  each  one,  and  the  longer  they  were 
on  the  tighter  they'd  stick.  Joe  says " 

"  William,"  I  interrupted,  "  why  do  you 
keep  saying  that  Joe  Wrigley  says  this  and 
Joe  Wrigley  says  that,  when  you " 

One  eyelid  slowly  curtained  an  eye. 
"  You  see,  Mr.  Carton,"  he  said,  in  a  half- 
whisper,  "  if  you  don't  know  nothin'  but 
what  Joe  says,  you  don't  know  enough  for 
evidence,  nor  too  much  for  your  own  good, 
and  if  that  old  sinner  makes  law  trouble  you 
can't  swear  to  anythin'  but  hearsay.  Joe 
says  it's  like  a  sort  of  judgment  on  him,  for 
it'll  take  as  long  to  get  the  feathers  and  wax 
off  that  pig  as  it'll  take  new  feathers  to  grow 
on  them  chickens.  He  says  there  ain't  but 
three  ways  of  gettin'  that  kind  of  wax  off : 
bilin'  in  kerosene,  freezin'  in  a  ice-cream 
freezer,  or  leavin'  it  to  nature  and  the  habits 
of  pigs." 

"  Well,  William,"  I  said  regretfully,  "  I 
suppose  you  had  better  go,  but  I'll  have  to 
218 


The  Wedding-Day 

get  another  man  to  do  the  work,  for  I'll 
have  the  farm  on  my  hands  in  a  few  days. 
Peter  has  signed  the  agreement  to  sell." 

"  Jee— rus'lem  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  It'll 
be  a  bigger  circus  than  I  counted  on 
when " 

"  When  what  ?  "  I  asked,  as  he  suddenly 
checked  himself. 

"  I  was  thinkin'  about  the  new  well  up  at 
the  barn,"  he  replied,  with  sudden  gravity. 
"  I  haven't  got  down  to  water  yet,  but  it 
ain't  far  off,  and  Joe  Wrigley  says  he'll 
come  over  to-morrow  and  finish  it  for  you. 
Well,  I  must  be  goin' — good-by  for  the 
present.  Mebbe  I'll  come  back  when  this 
blows  over." 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  ?  "  I  called  af 
ter  him,  as  he  hurried  off. 

His  legs  moved  faster,  as  if  he  feared  pur 
suit,  but  there  was  no  response  until  he 
reached  the  gate,  then  he  turned  and 
shouted :  "  To  see — Uncle — Benny !  " 

It  is  painfully  humiliating  to  stand  before 

a  locked  door  and  try  to  convince  a  silent 

person  inside  that  you  have  high  ideals, 

noble  impulses,  virtuous  aspirations  and  an 

219 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

unvarying  regard  for  the  truth;  it  is  yet 
more  painful  if  you  are  the  victim  of  a  train 
of  circumstantial  evidence  that  has  biassed 
the  mind  of  the  listener ;  you  are  at  a  further 
disadvantage  if  that  person  is  the  one  who 
knows  your  failings  better  than  you  do 
yourself,  but  there  is  yet  hope  if,  with  all 
your  faults,  she  loves  you  still. 

I  pleaded  and  reasoned  with  Marion  in 
a  high,  unnatural  and  despairingly  mellif 
luous  voice ;  without  avail.  Then  it  oc 
curred  to  me  that  I  was  on  the  wrong  tack, 
and  in  a  tone  of  hoarse  despair  I  said  I  was 
a  brute.  This  had  been  effective  before, 
and  I  listened  breathlessly ;  there  was  a  faint 
monosyllabic  response,  but  whether  of  as 
sent  or  dissent  I  could  not  determine.  With 
added  anguish  I  declared  that  I  was  and 
that  she  needn't  say  I  wasn't ;  that  it  would 
be  better  for  her  if  I  were  dead.  There  was 
a  whole  sentence  in  reply,  the  gist  of  it  be 
ing  that  she  hadn't  said  I  wasn't.  This  was 
encouraging,  so  I  sought  to  create  a  diver 
sion  by  telling  her  that  William  had  gone ; 
this  item  was  coldly  received.  Then,  like 
an  inspiration,  came  the  thought  that  I  had 
220 


The  Wedding-Day 

still  to  tell  her  how  we  had  been  bidding 
against  each  other. 

"  Marion,"  I  called  out  excitedly,  "  I 
know  the  man  who  tried  to  buy  the  place." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"  Open  the  door,  and  I'll  tell  you." 

"  No ;  I  can  hear." 

"  He's  a  perfect  brute."  I  moved  away 
with  a  heavy  tread.  It  was  an  excellent 
move ;  the  door  opened  and  Marion  ran 
after  me. 

"What's  his  name?"  she  demanded. 

"  He's  a  man,"  I  replied,  with  unreprov- 
ing,  sad  forgiveness,  "  who  thought  he 
would  try  to  please  his  wife  by  making  her 
a  present  of  the  place." 

"  Good  gracious !  Was  it  that  wretched 
Griggs?" 

"  No, — his  name  is — Henry  Carton." 

Now  I  had  expected  the  announcement 
to  create  a  sensation,  but  I  was  totally  un 
prepared  for  the  effect  it  produced.  In 
stead  of  being  appalled  to  learn  that  she 
had  thrown  away  sixteen  hundred  dollars 
unnecessarily,  she  forgave  me  with  every 
appearance  of  being  delighted  to  hear  the 

221 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

news.  An  interval  followed,  during  which 
I  didn't  care  particularly  how  this  blissful 
state  of  affairs  had  come  to  pass,  but  I  gath 
ered  by  degrees  that  it  was  because  I  had 
quite  innocently  proved  that  I  was  not  a 
mercenary  wretch  and  that  I  could  by  no 
possibility  have  saved  Mr.  Fairman's  life 
from  any  sordid  motive.  There  are  prob 
ably  few  men  more  deserving  of  praise,  but 
I  shall  not  repeat  Marion's  expressions  of 
affection  and  respect,  in  case  they  should 
appear  extravagant.  I  bore  her  apprecia 
tion  with  my  usual  modesty,  and  when  she 
wondered  how  she  could  have  behaved  so, 
I  said  it  wasn't  any  wonder  at  all,  and  that  I 
was  almost  sure  I  wasn't  as  good  as  she 
said.  She  declared  indignantly  that  I  was 
far  better,  and  when  I  tried  to  add  that  I 
had  acted  like  a  brute  she  put  her  hand  over 
my  mouth  and  threatened  to  get  angry 
again  if  I  used  that  word  about  myself,  say 
ing  that  I  had  acted  like  an  angel,  and  how 
could  I  ever  forgive  her?  I  assured  her 
that  there  was  nothing  to  forgive,  but  if 
there  was  I  forgave  her  freely,  and  I  did  so 
with  such  fervor  and  unselfishness  that 


The  Wedding-Day 

she  almost  melted  into  tears  again.  Then 
with  the  greatest  delicacy  I  suggested  that 
I  was  grieved  that  she  had  been  obliged  to 
pay  so  much  more  for  the  farm  than  if  I 
hadn't  been  so  stupid,  but  she  only  said  in 
differently,  "  Bother  the  money — I've  got 
you !  " 

Still,  I  grudged  that  sixteen  hundred 
dollars,  and  I  thought  she  ought  to  show 
more  concern,  but  I  dreaded  a  return  of 
her  suspicion  that  I  was  mercenary,  so  I 
bothered  the  money  also  and  remarked  that 
I  had  her.  Then  we  both  made  the  happy 
discovery  that  we  had  Paul,  and  Marion 
reminded  me  that  I  had  the  farm  and 
enough  money  to  stock  it,  yet  in  spite  of 
all  these  blessings  it  rankled  in  my  mind 
that  when  the  papers  were  signed  Peter 
Waydean  would  have  that  sixteen  hundred 
dollars  above  the  worth  of  the  farm. 


223 


XII 

THE  EXIT  OF  WILLIAM  WEDDER 

THE  morning  after  Aunt  Sophy's  wed 
ding  I  slept  late,  more  exhausted  by 
the  excitement  of  the  day  than  I  had  been 
aware  of,  yet  in  that  dreamy  state  of  half- 
wakefulness  before  sunrise,  I  was  dimly 
conscious  of  hearing  the  sound  of  Joe 
Wrigley's  pick  and  shovel,  as  he  worked 
at  the  unfinished  well.  I  remembered  that 
I  must  go  to  the  city  and  arrange  with 
Marion's  agent  for  the  transfer  of  the  prop 
erty,  and  also  be  ready,  in  my  role  of  Uncle 
Benny,  to  receive  William  Wedder,  if  he 
should  call  at  the  Observer  office  as  he 
had  threatened.  I  was  drowsily  exulting 
in  William's  discomfiture  on  finding  that 
I  was  Uncle  Benny,  when  a  loud  shouting 
from  the  direction  of  the  barn  awakened 
me  ;  a  moment  later  I  heard  hurried  clump 
ing  footsteps  and  the  sound  of  hammering 
224 


The  Exit  of  William  Wedder 

at  the  back  door.  My  first  impression  was 
that  the  earth  had  caved  in  and  buried  Joe 
Wrigley  and  that  he  had  come  to  me  for 
help,  but  when  I  hurried  into  a  few  essential 
garments  and  reached  the  back  door  I  was 
relieved  to  find  that  Joe  was  there;  pale, 
breathless,  agitated,  but  unburied. 

"  Come  quick — He!  "  he  gasped,  and  lum 
bered  off.  I  followed. 

When  I  reached  the  well  Peter  Waydean 
was  lying  prone  on  his  face  with  his  head 
hanging  over  the  hole.  At  the  sound  of 
my  voice  he  humped  himself  slowly  and 
stood  up,  looking  at  me  with  an  expression 
of  utter  misery. 

Joe  grabbed  my  arm  and  pointed  to  the 
well.  "  He,"  he  repeated,  in  a  hoarse  croak 
— "  smell." 

I  lay  down  and  smelled  ;  the  reeking  odor 
of  kerosene  oil  arose  upwards  and  I  stag 
gered  to  my  feet,  stunned  by  a  sudden  vision 
of  great  wealth. 

Peter    was    the    first    to    speak.     "  The 
farm's  worth  half  a  million,"  he  said  de 
spairingly,  "  and  I've  sold  it  to  that  shark 
for  fifty-one  hundred." 
225 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

"What  shark?"  I  forced  myself  to  ask. 

"  That  land  shark  in  the  city,"  he  said, 
turning  away  with  a  sudden  stiffening  of 
his  frame.  "  But  I'll  not  be  robbed,"  he 
shouted,  raising  his  clenched  hand  above 
his  head  in  a  fierce  gesture — "  he  hasn't  got 
the  deed  yet." 

I  watched  him  hurry  over  the  adjoining 
field,  a  strange  pitying  impulse  possessing 
me  to  run  after  him  and  tell  him  to  take 
back  the  farm ;  then  Joe  attracted  my  atten 
tion. 

"  Jest  as  I  struck  that  streak  of  clay,"  he 
said,  pointing  downwards,  "  I  seen  it  get 
soppy  like,  but  I  thought  it  was  water,  for 
I  took  the  smell  to  be  from  the  ile  on  my 
hair,  settled  into  contracted  quarters  like ; 
then  it  began  to  bubble  up  faster,  an'  I 
scooped  up  a  handful  to  taste,  an'  the  next 
thing  I  knowed  I  was  up  here  hollerin'  for 
all  I  was  worth.  Old  Peter,  he  come 
runnin'  over  the  pasture  field,  an'  I  lit  out 
for  the  house  to  call  you." 

In  the  well  I  could  see  a  slight  bubbling 
as  the  oil  ran  in,  and  the  bottom  was  now 
covered  with  several  inches  of  the  fluid, 
226 


The  Exit  of  William  Wedder 

which  looked  remarkably  clear  and  of  such 
fine  quality  that  I  didn't  wonder  Joe  had 
mistaken  it  for  water.  I  told  him  to  stop 
work  and  cover  the  hole  with  boards,  warn 
ing  him  not  to  tell  anyone  of  the  discovery. 
I  don't  know  why  I  gave  him  the  latter 
direction,  but  I  had  an  instinct  that  it  was 
the  correct  thing  to  do  and  was  an  evidence 
of  presence  of  mind  on  my  part.  Then  I 
went  back  to  the  house  to  break  the  news 
to  Marion. 

In  my  inmost  heart  I  knew  that  the 
wealth  was  rightfully  Peter's,  though  I  was 
legally  entitled  to  reap  the  benefit  of  the 
discovery,  but  something  of  the  passionate 
greed  that  I  had  seen  expressed  in  his  dis 
torted  face  stirred  my  soul,  and  I  went  up 
stairs  to  tell  Marion,  feeling,  I  imagine,  like 
a  fugitive  bank  cashier.  But  when  I  looked 
into  her  clear  eyes  I  knew  there  was  but 
one  right  course,  and  that  was  to  release 
Peter  from  his  agreement.  Somehow  I  felt 
as  if  I  had  just  escaped  from  prison  when 
that  was  settled ;  never  again  do  I  wish  to 
be  burdened  with  even  the  thought  of  un- 
worked-for  riches. 

227 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

I  felt  sorry  for  Peter  when  I  hurried  over 
to  his  house  to  tell  him  he  could  take  back 
his  farm  without  going  to  law.  I  regret  to 
say  that  he  did  not  receive  me  with  open 
arms  or  fully  appreciate  my  generosity ;  in 
deed,  when  I  told  him  that  we  had  employed 
the  land  agents  to  negotiate  with  him  he 
declared  that  he  never  would  have  signed 
the  agreement  if  he  had  known,  but  he  be 
came  more  amiable  when  he  understood 
that  Marion  and  I  had  been  bidding  against 
each  other. 

Now  when  I  act  nobly,  I  like  the  matter 
to  be  distinctly  understood ;  therefore 
Peter's  attitude  was  disappointing.  There 
wasn't  the  slightest  doubt  but  that  he  should 
have  been  so  affected  by  my  action  as  to 
thank  me  in  a  voice  broken  with  emotion, 
begging  me  at  the  same  time  to  accept  the 
office  of  President  of  the  Waydean  Oil 
Company,  and  fifty  per  cent,  of  the  capital 
stock.  I  did  not  try  to  make  him  see  it  in 
the  proper  light,  for  that  would  have  been 
undignified  as  well  as  useless,  and  I  was 
pressed  for  time,  so  I  bade  him  a  courteous 
but  frigid  good-morning.  I  knew  better 
228 


The  Exit  of  William  Wedder 

than  to  seek  consolation  from  Marion  by 
letting  her  know  that  I  had  expected  grati 
tude,  for  such  a  course  would  have  led  to 
the  scornful  assertion  that  I  had  done  noth 
ing  for  which  gratitude  should  be  expected. 
So  when  she  asked  if  he  wasn't  awfully 
grateful  I  answered  in  the  negative,  elevat 
ing  my  eyebrows  in  surprise.  Marion  at 
once  asserted  that  Peter  was  a  grasping 
hard-hearted  man,  and  tried  to  show  me 
how  nobly  I  had  behaved ;  a  point  of  view 
that  I  protested  against,  with  the  result  that 
I  was  praised  to  an  extent  that  she  has  never 
since  excelled. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  when  I  took  the 
train  for  the  city,  and  for  the  first  time  I  had 
leisure  to  think  over  the  astounding  dis 
covery  of  oil.  The  short  time  which  had 
elapsed  since  I  had  been  awakened  by  Joe 
Wrigley  had  been  so  full  of  action  that  I 
had  difficulty  in  persuading  myself  that  I 
hadn't  been  dreaming,  and  the  farther  I  got 
from  Waydean,  the  more  incredible  ap 
peared  the  evidence  of  my  senses  that  I  had 
seen  and  smelled  oil  bubbling  up  at  the  bot 
tom  of  my  fifteen-foot  well. 
229 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

The  first  thing  I  did  when  I  got  to  the 
Observer  office  was  to  consult  the  encyclo 
paedia  in  regard  to  oil-wells.  I  do  not  think 
I  ever  received  so  much  mental  enlighten 
ment  from  that  useful  compendium  in  such 
a  short  space  of  time,  as  during  the  few 
minutes  I  spent  over  the  article  on  petro 
leum.  William  Wedder  was  not  men 
tioned,  but  when  I  closed  the  book  with  a 
bang  I  knew  that  the  ingenious  old  rogue 
had  not  only  carried  out  his  threat  of  mak 
ing  Peter  the  laughing-stock  of  the  county, 
but  had  included  me  also.  For  a  short  time 
I  was  beside  myself  with  rage,  then  an  idea 
leaped  into  my  mind  that  suggested  delight 
ful  possibilities,  and  I  hurried  down  to  the 
front  office  to  find  out  if  William  had  called 
that  morning. 

I  have  been  repeatedly  questioned  about 
how  I  spent  the  time  between  lunch  and 
three  o'clock,  but  I  have  two  good  reasons 
for  evading  a  direct  answer ;  one  is,  that  I 
do  not  care  to  say,  the  other,  that  I  cannot, 
like  some  people,  tell  a  lie  without  provoca 
tion.  Young  Evans,  at  the  Inquiry  and 
Subscription  wicket,  knew  that  I  told  him 
230 


The  Exit  of  William  Wedder 

as  I  went  out  at  noon  that  if  a  smooth- 
shaven  countrified-looking  old  man  asked 
for  Uncle  Benny  he  was  to  be  shown  up 
to  my  room  to  await  my  return.  Old 
Jamieson,  the  elevator  man,  knew  that  I 
entered  by  the  side  door  about  three  o'clock, 
and  that  I  was  quite  astonished  to  hear  that 
a  visible  Uncle  Benny  had  appeared  and 
disappeared  during  my  absence,  and  that 
he  had  been  followed  into  my  room  by  a 
smooth-shaven  rural-looking  old  codger; 
that  after  an  interval  of  loud  conversation 
that  could  be  heard  above  the  rumbling  of 
the  presses  in  the  basement,  the  latter 
emerged  hastily,  clattered  down  the  stairs 
with  something  in  one  hand  that  looked 
like  a  human  scalp,  closely  pursued  by 
Uncle  Benny,  who  was  excitedly  pulling  his 
stovepipe  hat  down  over  his  ears  as  he  ran, 
and  stopping  as  he  descended  the  stairs  to 
replace  the  huge  prunella  shoes  that  kept 
dropping  off. 

But    it    was    Meldrum,    the    cartoonist, 

whose  room  was  opposite  mine,  who  told 

me  most  about  this  strange  occurrence.    "  I 

thought  there  was  a  fire  at  first,"  he  said,  in 

231 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

relating  the  affair.  "  I  got  into  the  hall  and 
saw  the  most  remarkable  looking  old  party 
sitting  at  your  desk.  Hairy  as  a  gorilla — 
couldn't  see  a  feature  except  his  nose — 
smoked  goggles — white  hair  to  his  shoul 
ders — white  beard  down  to  his  belt — long- 
skirted  frock  coat — pants  turned  up  at  the 
bottom,  showing  his  spindle-shanks  half 
way " 

"  Spindle-shanks !  " 

"  Yes — regular  pipe-stems — and  prunella 
shoes,  by  Jove ! — the  kind  he  wore  in  the 
ark — voice  like  a  polar  bear,  and  deaf  as  a 
door-post.  Other  chap  got  completely 
winded  trying  to  make  him  hear." 

"  What  was  he  like?" 

"  Small,  smooth-shaven,  pink  cheeks, 
blue  eyes.  Looked  like  Shem — voice  away 
up  in  G." 

"Could  you  hear  what  they  said?" 

Meldrum  laughed  derisively.  "  Hear?" 
he  repeated.  "Hear!  Great  Scott!  If 
the  presses  hadn't  been  running  some  idiot 
on  the  street  would  have  pulled  the  fire- 
alarm,  sure.  When  I  saw  them  first  Noah 
had  his  hand  up  to  his  ear  and  Shem  was 
232 


The  Exit  of  William  Wedder 

yelling     into     it :      '  Will  —  yum     Wed  — • 
der ! ' 

"  '  I  see/  growls  Noah,  '  William  was 
your  grandson,  and  he  got  married.  Go 
ahead.' 

"  '  No,  no — '  shouts  Shem,  '  that's  my 

name.      WILL YUM    WED 

DER!' 

" '  You'll  have  to  raise  your  voice,'  says 
Noah,  '  I'm  a  little  hard  of  hearing.' 

"  Then  Shem  goes  at  it  again,  a  fifth 
higher,  and  Noah  catches  on  and  asks  him 
a  lot  of  questions.  Where  he  came  from, 
what  family,  how  he  happened  to  leave 
home.  Shem  shouts  that  he  isn't  a  hired 
man  by  birth,  and  that  he  left  his  family 
because  his  wife  and  daughter  caught  the 
whole-wheat-and-nut-food  fever  and  tried 
to  feed  him  on  hygienic  principles,  so  after 
building  up  his  strength  on  unwholesome 
food  for  the  summer,  he's  going  back  to  his 
family  to  see  if  they've  come  to  their 
senses." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  Meldrum,  that 
you  stood  out  in  the  hall  and  eaves 
dropped?" 

233 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

"  Eavesdropped !  Old  Wedder's  voice 
sailed  into  my  room  as  plainly  as  if  he  had 
the  jim-jams.  Come  now,  Carton,  you 
know  more  about  this  thing  than  you  pre 
tend.  He  brought  your  name  in  several 
times,  and  if  I'm  not  mistaken,  he  had  some 
good  joke  on  you  about  your  farm.  Every 
little  while  I'd  hear  Noah  growl,  '  That  isn't 
funny.'  At  last  I  heard  Shem  fairly  yell, 
'  That  ain't  funny,  ain't  it  ?' — then  there  was 
a  shout  from  Noah  and  a  mighty  clatter. 
By  the  time  I  got  out  from  behind  my  desk 
and  into  the  hall  again,  all  I  could  see  was 
the  top  of  Noah's  stovepipe  vanishing  down 
the  stairway.  Jamieson  is  certain  Shem 
had  his  wig.  Come  now,  Carton,  make  a 
clean  breast  of  it  and  tell  me  who  these  old 
parties  were.  I  always  thought  you  wrote 
the  Uncle  Benny  papers,  but  perhaps  I  was 
mistaken." 

"  Meldrum,"  I  said  confidentially,  "  I'll 
tell  you  the  honest  truth,  but  I  want  you  to 
keep  it  quiet.  William  Wedder  was  my 
hired  man,  and  he  was  determined  to  see  a 
real  Uncle  Benny,  so  to  oblige  him,  I 
togged  myself  out  for  the  part  at  the  theat- 
234 


The  Exit  of  William  Wedder 

rical  costumer's  around  the  corner.  I 
didn't  expect — ha,  ha,  ha ! — to  take  you  in, 
though." 

I  made  this  explanation  with  calm  sin 
cerity,  with  child-like  frankness,  and  I'm 
sure  I  don't  know  what  prompted  me  to 
cast  these  pearls  of  truth  before  a  fellow- 
journalist,  but  I  did.  What  was  the  result? 
Meldrum  sniffed  at  the  gems  suspiciously, 
then  chuckled,  assuring  me  as  he  jocularly 
slapped  my  back  that  he  was  delighted  to 
know  the  facts  of  the  case  and  that  he  would 
respect  my  confidence. 

This  is  how  the  rumor  originated  that  the 
real  Uncle  Benny  was  an  aged  and  talented 
relative  of  mine,  whom  I  kept  in  seclusion 
to  restrain  his  bibulous  propensities.  It 
was  perhaps  as  well  that  I  was  not  aware  of 
this  at  the  time,  or  I  certainly  would  have 
been  discouraged  from  the  practice  of  tell 
ing  the  undiluted  truth. 


235 


XIII 

THE  FAIRY  WELL 

I  NEED  not  dwell  upon  my  return  to 
Waydean  that  evening.  It  is  still  pain 
ful  to  recall  my  sensations  as  I  stepped  from 
the  train,  on  finding  that  Joe  Wrigley  had 
so  completely  disregarded  my  instructions 
to  tell  no  one  of  the  discovery  that  the 
usually  quiet  country  road  between  the 
station  and  Waydean  swarmed  with  pedes 
trians  returning  from  an  inspection  of  Will 
iam  Wedder's  handiwork.  Had  I  been 
permitted,  as  I  had  hoped,  to  publicly  ex 
pose  the  fraud,  I  could  have  risen  to  the 
occasion  and  perhaps  found  a  certain  solace 
in  doing  so ;  but  to  find  that  in  my  absence 
the  prying  eyes  of  my  neighbors  had  found 
the  ingenious  mechanism  by  which  William 
had  manufactured  a  flowing  well  of  refined 
petroleum,  and  had  attributed  it  to  me, 
was  crushing.  I  could  bear  up  under  the 
236 


The  Fairy  Well 

facetious  remarks  of  the  people  who  com 
plimented  me  on  my  success  in  taking  such 
an  excellent  rise  out  of  Peter,  but  when 
Andy  Taylor  rushed  out  of  his  house  and 
clapped  me  on  the  back,  I  could  only  look 
at  him  in  sorrowful  reproach,  at  which  his 
merriment  increased.  "  Mr.  Carton,"  he 
gasped,  "  it  beats  the  way  you  done  up  that 
Griggs  all  hollow.  I  knew  you'd  get  back 
on  Peter,  but  I  didn't  know  it'd  be  so — 
gosh — darn — rich.  Oh  Lordy,  to  see  him 
when  the  loose  dirt  shifted  and  showed  the 
blue  end  of  the  coal-oil  barrel !  " 

"The  coal-oil  barrel?" 

"  Yes, — you'd  ought  to  have  laid  a  few 
boards  of  top  of  the  heap,  and  it  wouldn't 
have  shifted  with  people  trampin'.  You 
must  have  let  ten  gallons  run  down  that 
iron  pipe — and  how  did  you  ever  get  it 
drove  so  far?  I  suppose  that  joke  cost  you 
as  much  as  five  dollars,  but  I'd  say  it  was 
cheap  at  ten." 

In  vain  I  assured  Andy  that  I  was  inno 
cent  ;  he  only  laughed  the  harder,  reiterat 
ing  his  belief  that  I  beat  the  Dutch  and  that 
I  was  a  natural  born  play-actor;  that  the 
237 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

Griggs  episode,  charming  as  it  had  been, 
was  discounted  by  my  latest  histrionic 
venture. 

By  the  dim  light  of  my  lantern,  Marion, 
Paul  and  I  viewed  the  wreck  of  the  Way- 
dean  Oil  Well  when  I  reached  home.  Our 
coal-oil  barrel,  exhumed  from  the  loose 
earth  that  had  covered  it,  had  been  rolled 
away  from  the  edge  of  the  hole,  leaving  the 
iron  pipe  exposed.  The  ground  was 
packed  hard  with  the  trampling  of  many 
feet. 

"  I  didn't  think  there  could  be  such  a 
crowd  of  people  in  the  country,  except  at  a 
funeral  or  an  auction  sale,"  said  Marion  in 
dignantly.  "  I  was  just  enraged  to  sit  in 
the  house  and  see  them  pass  through  the 
yard  as  if  it  were  a  common.  I'll  never 
forgive  William  Wedder — I  wish  I  had 
never  baked  him  a  pie." 

"  I  hope  he'll  have  to  live  on  hygienic 
wheat  biscuits  when  he  gets  home,"  I  re 
sponded.  "  I  hope  his  wife  has  learned  to 
cook  them  in  two  hundred  ways,  and 
whether  they're  mashed,  stewed,  fried,  pied, 
creamed,  puddinged  or  jellied,  he'll  have 
238 


The  Fairy  Well 

disappointment  three  times  a  day  of  finding 
that  they  are  still  the  same  old  wheat  bis 
cuits.  That'll  be  punishment  enough  for 
him,  but  it  won't  make  Peter  believe  I  didn't 
do  this,  and  by  this  time  he  must  have  got 
Roper's  letter  cancelling  the  agreement." 

"  I  suppose  we'll  have  to  give  up  the 
place  in  the  end,"  said  Marion,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Don't  let  Paul  hear,"  I  said  in  a  low 
tone,  "  or  he'll  make  the  dickens  of  a  row." 

At  that  moment  Paul  was  leaning  over 
the  edge  dangling  a  long  string  into  the 
well ;  fishing,  I  supposed,  in  my  ignorance. 
For  days  he  had  been  going  about  with  a 
dreamy  look  on  his  face  that  betokened  a 
secret  play  of  absorbing  interest.  I  drew  a 
breath  of  relief  when  I  saw  that  he  didn't 
look  up  at  Marion's  unguarded  remark. 
All  would  have  been  well  had  I  not  been 
so  misguided  as  to  make  a  suggestion  that 
aroused  Marion's  sense  of  duty  and  her  per 
sistent  belief  that  I  tried  to  shirk  mine. 

"  Paul,"  said  she,  and  even  in  that  one 
word  I  detected  the  compassionate  severity 
suitable  to  the  extraction  of  a  tooth — "  do 

you  know  that  we'll  have  to  leave ' 

239 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

"  Marion,"  I  implored,  "  wait  till  we  get 
him  into  the  house — he'll  rouse  the  neigh 
borhood." 

I  should  have  known  better  than  to  pro 
test.  Once  started  in  the  track  of  duty 
nothing  short  of  a  disastrous  collision 
would  stop  her.  She  did  pause,  but  merely 
to  make  a  remark  to  me  that  led  to  a  sharp 
altercation.  We  forgot  our  rule  never  to 
give  way  to  our  angry  passions  before  Paul ; 
indeed,  he  was  so  unusually  silent  that  we 
didn't  remember  his  presence  until  we  were 
suddenly  struck  dumb  by  a  shrill  exclama 
tion  of  impatient  wrath  that  arose  from  the 
other  side  of  the  well. 

"  Dar-r-n  it !  "  he  ejaculated,  with  petri 
fying  distinctness. 

If  he  had  turned  into  a  quick-firing  gun 
and  dropped  a  shell  at  our  feet  the  effect 
could  not  have  been  more  paralyzing.  Our 
boy  had  been  carefully  screened,  not  only 
from  evil,  but  from  vulgarity ;  he  had  never 
gone  to  Sunday  school,  nor  been  left  to  the 
care  of  a  nursemaid.  His  companions  were 
his  toys  and  domestic  pets ;  other  children 
he  had  seen  only  from  a  distance,  and  he 
240 


The  Fairy  Well 

regarded  them  as  curious,  but  not  interest 
ing,  little  animals.  His  face  reflected  the 
purity  of  his  mind.  I  hesitate  to  say  so,  for 
obvious  reasons,  but  his  face  at  the  age  of 
seven  was  simply  angelic ;  I  mean,  of  course, 
normally,  not  when  his  mouth  was  wide 
open  in  the  act  of  expressing  bodily  or  men 
tal  anguish.  And  this  is  not  merely  his 
mother's  opinion  and  mine ;  it  is  Aunt 
Sophy's  also.  Indeed,  Aunt  Sophy,  who  is 
never  tired  of  drawing  attention  to  his  re 
markable  resemblance  to  a  photograph  of 
me  as  a  boy,  has  gone  much  farther,  and  has 
given  utterance  to  thoughts  that  we  only 
think. 

Therefore,  we  turned  to  each  other  in 
dumb  amazement ;  then  I  raised  the  lantern 
to  make  sure  that  it  really  was  Paul  who 
had  spoken.  He  was  getting  up  from  his 
crouching  position  and  the  light  showed 
that  his  little  mouth  was  tightly  set  and  that 
his  wide-open  eyes  sparkled  like  stars. 
Even  as  we  stared  at  him  his  lips  parted 
again,  and  again  he  said :  "  Dar-r-r-n  it !  " 

I  am  thankful  that  the  well  was  partially 
covered  and  that  I  was  able  to  keep  Marion 
241 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

from  sliding  into  it.     "  Paul!  "  she  cried  in 
horror,  "  oh,  Paul !  " 

I  hastened  to  follow  her  lead.  "  Paul,"  I 
said,  with  fierce  sternness,  "  what  do  you 
mean,  sir?  " 

"  I  mean,"  he  replied  accusingly,  "  that 
it's  all  spoiled.  They've  taken  fright  at 
your  squabbling  and  put  out  their  lamps." 

Again  we  stared  at  each  other  in  ques 
tioning  silence.  What  had  taken  fright  we 
knew  not,  but  we  did  know  that  we  had 
squabbled. 

"  Where  did  you  hear  that  dreadful 
word?"  demanded  Marion. 

"  Darn  ?  "  queried  Paul,  with  innocent 
pride.  "  I  heard  William  Wedder  say 
something  when  the  coal-oil  barrel  rolled 
on  his  foot,  and  when  I  asked  him  '  I  beg 
your  pardon  ?  '  he  couldn't  remember  what 
he  had  said,  then  when  I  kept  on  asking 
him  to  try  to  remember  he  said  it  must 
have  been  an  exclamation  called  darn.  I 
think  it's  ever  so  much  nicer  than  bother  or 
good  gracious" 

"  It's  a  vulgar  word,   and   only  vulgar 
people  use  it,"  I  commented  reprovingly. 
242 


The  Fairy  Well 

"  Why,  father,  William  said  that  when 
Joe  Wrigley's  horse  stood  up  on  his  hind 
legs  you  said " 

"  Paul,"  I  interrupted  hurriedly,  "  you 
said  something  took  fright,  and " 

"  Hush !  "  said  he,  in  a  mysterious  whis 
per,  coming  close  to  me.  "  It  was  the 
fairies.  William  said  if  we  made  an  oil  well 
and  didn't  say  anything  about  it,  they'd  be 
sure  to  come  to  fill  their  lamps,  and  they 
have.  I  saw  three  of  them  climbing  up  my 
rope  ladder  when  you  frightened  them  off." 

"  Then  you  knew  that  William  made 
this  ?  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Of  course.  I  helped  him  to  bury  the 
barrel  so  that  the  fairies  wouldn't  know  it 
wasn't  a  real  natural  well.  He  said  if  we 
kept  it  a  secret  it  would  be  a  pleasant  sur 
prise  to  you  when  I  showed  you  the  fairies. 
Hush !  They're  climbing  up  the  rope  lad 
der  again.  Peep  down  through  that  crack 
and  you'll  see  them — very — ve — ry — quiet 
ly.  There  now — stand  back.  I'm  going 
to  help  them  up  over  the  edge." 

The  next  morning  Peter  Waydean  came 
over  to  see  me,  his  face  wreathed  in  smiles, 
243 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

his  manner  most  cordial.  "  Mr.  Carton," 
he  said  genially,  "  I  ain't  on  the  hunt  for 
oil  wells  this  morning,  but  I  was  on  my  way 
to  thank  you  for  the  trouble  you  took  in 
rigging  up  that  one  when  I  met  your  little 
boy  coming  over  to  see  me." 

"  Paul !  "  I  exclaimed—"  to  see  you?  " 

Peter  nodded.  "  Great  head  on  that  little 
chap,"  he  said.  " '  I  don't  want  you  to  be 
angry  at  father  about  the  oil  well,'  he  says 
to  me,  '  for  William  and  I  made  it  together, 
and  father  didn't  know  anything  about  it,' 
says  he,  standing  up  straight  and  stiff. 
Then  he  told  me  the  whole  business,  and 
although  it  turned  out  a  good  thing  for  me, 
I'm  glad  to  know  it  was  that  scoundrel 
Wedder  that  tried  to  play  it  off,  and  not  you. 
Paul  was  so  tickled  at  me  pretending  to  be 
lieve  he  really  seen  fairies  that  when  he 
wanted  me  to  say  that  I'd  sell  the  farm  to 
you  just  the  same,  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  tell 
him  it  was  sold." 

"Sold?" 

"  Yes, — you  see,  I  thought  you  had 
played  that  trick  on  me  and  I  was  so  mad 
yesterday  that  when  along  comes  another 
244 


The  Fairy  Well 

agent  twice  as  keen  to  buy  as  them  other 
two  I  jumped  at  the  chance  of  selling. 
'  Name  your  price,'  says  he,  '  to  sell  on  the 
spot.'  '  Six  thousand/  says  I,  at  a  bluff. 
'  Done,'  says  he ;  and  in  five  minutes  the 
agreement  was  signed." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  with  a  sigh,  "  I  suppose 
we'll  have  to  move." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Peter  encour 
agingly.  "  Perhaps  the  party  don't  want  to 
live  here ;  though,  considering  the  price," 
he  added,  with  a  shrewd  smile,  "  he  didn't 
buy  just  for  speculation.  They  say  he's  got 
a  fine  place  in  the  city  and  heaps  of  money, 
and  he's  just  got  married  again  to  a  widow. 
I  might  as  well  have  asked  another  thou 
sand,  I  believe." 

"  What  is  his  name?  "  I  asked,  with  sud 
den  interest. 

"  Fairman.  He  owns — what — Mr.  Car 
ton,  what's  the " 

I  relaxed  my  tense  grip  of  his  arm.  "  His 
first  name?  "  I  demanded  eagerly. 

"  Joseph,  I  think.     What's  the  matter?  " 

I  am  afraid  my  explanation  was  not  very 
clear  to  Peter.     I  could  not  tell  him  the 
245 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

cause  of  my  excitement,  nor  mention  the 
fact  that  I  had  saved  Mr.  Fairman's  life 
several  times  in  one  day,  for  that  would 
have  savored  of  boastfulness ;  so  I  hinted 
that  when  we  were  boys  together  Mr.  Fair- 
man  had  saved  my  life  and  had  ever  since 
regarded  me  with  the  highest  esteem.  Thus 
I  preserved  the  main  fact  of  our  connection, 
only  disguising  it  enough  to  let  Marion  see 
incidentally  afterwards  how  careful  I  was 
to  avoid  the  appearance  of  vainglory. 

Now  when  I  rushed  into  the  house  to  tell 
Marion  that  Mr.  Fairman  had  bought  Way- 
dean,  I  did  so  with  the  innocent  exuberance 
of  expectant  delight  with  which  children, 
not  too  sophisticated,  view  brown  paper 
parcels  that  are  delivered  at  their  homes 
during  the  Christmas  season.  Marion's 
first  thought,  I  could  swear,  was  similar  to 
mine;  I  could  not  mistake  the  vivid  flash 
of  happy  gratitude  that  illumined  her  face, 
nor  the  sudden  exclamation  that  was 
checked  at  the  parting  of  her  lips,  yet 
her  tone,  when  she  did  speak,  expressed 
the  utmost  mystification.  "  Why, — how 
strange !  "  said  she. 

246 


The  Fairy  Well 

For  an  instant  I  did  not  comprehend  her 
mental  attitude,  but  I  am  remarkably 
adaptable,  not  by  nature,  but  by  training, 
and  by  a  swift  turn  I  avoided  plunging 
headlong  into  an  awkward  situation.  It 
would  show  a  want  of  delicacy,  a  sordid 
mind,  a  vulgar  expectancy,  were  I  not  to 
ignore  the  thought  that  we  had  both  almost 
uttered.  Even  though  I  saw  an  equine 
nose,  a  flowing  tail  and  four  legs  protruding 
through  the  brown  paper,  I  must  not  guess 
it  was  a  rocking  horse;  above  all,  I  must 
not  hope  it  was  to  be  mine. 

"  Yes,"  I  remarked,  with  innocent  be 
wilderment,  "  it  is  very  strange.  I  wonder 
why  he  bought  it." 

Truly  I  have  learned  a  thing  or  two.  My 
wife  regarded  me  with  admiration  that  she 
scarcely  tried  to  hide.  I  had  saved  Mr. 
Fairman's  life  without  adding  a  cubit  to  my 
stature  in  her  estimation,  but  by  this  trifling 
observance  of  the  proprieties,  this  delicate 
expression  of  native  refinement,  I  stood 
exalted  upon  a  pedestal. 

"  I  wonder,"  repeated  Marion,  after  me, 
in  deep  conjecture,  "  why  he — bought — 
it?" 

247 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

Our  eyes  met.  In  hers  I  could  see  a  far 
away  amused  sparkle ;  in  my  own  I  per 
mitted  a  faint  twinkle,  then  we  both  looked 
in  another  direction. 

"  Perhaps,"  I  ventured  cautiously,  "  Aunt 
Sophy  will  write  and  tell  us." 

"  Perhaps  she  will,"  said  Marion. 

The  reward  of  unconscious  virtue  arrived 
by  the  next  mail,  in  the  guise  of  a  long  letter 
from  Mrs.  Fairman. 

" I  can  scarcely  realize  that  it  is 

only  three  days  since  we  said  good-by,"  she 
wrote,  "  it  seems  so  long  ago.  Of  course 
we  have  been  travelling  most  of  the  time 
and  this  is  really  the  first  chance  I  have  had 
to  write  and  tell  you  about  the  trip,  and 
how  constantly  I  think  of  your  kindness  to 
me,  and  what  good  reason  I  have  to  be 
grateful  for  the  advice  that  had  so  much  to 
do  with  my  present  happiness.  Indeed,  I 
confessed  to  Joseph  how  I  was  influenced 
by  Henry's  opinion,  and  he  was  quite  af 
fected.  He  keeps  saying  to  me :  '  A  fine 
young  man — a  noble  young  man ! '  He  de 
scribes  to  me  over  and  over  again  how 
248 


The  Fairy  Well 

admirably  Henry  acted  in  the  presence  of 
danger  the  morning  of  our  wedding;  he 
says  he  hasn't  a  doubt  but  that  for  Henry's 
coolness  and  resource  we  wouldn't  be  mar 
ried  now.  The  thought  makes  me  shud 
der  !  I  suppose  that  is  why  I  feel  so  nerv 
ous  about  him  when  he  is  out  of  sight;  I 
am  so  afraid  of  another  accident. 

"  But  really,  Marion,  he  hasn't  been  away 
from  me  for  more  than  half  an  hour  at  a 
time,  he  is  so  devoted.  Of  course,  with 
such  large  interests  he  has  business  to  look 
after,  but  he  does  it  altogether  by  telegrams. 
It  amazes  me  to  see  the  number  he  sends 
off,  and  I'm  getting  quite  used  to  the  shoals 
that  arrive,  but  at  first  the  sight  of  them 
made  me  feel  quite  ill.  He  never  looks  to 
see  if  there  are  more  than  ten  words,  and 
yesterday's  hotel  bill  had  an  item  of  $7.62 
for  telegrams ! 

"  Somehow  I  have  been  thinking  a  great 
deal  of  your  poor  Uncle  Philip  lately.  I 
think  it  must  be  the  resemblance  I  see  in 
Henry  to  him  that  has  brought  him  so  vivid 
ly  before  me — and  I  have  come  to  the  con 
clusion  that  I  was  too  hard  on  him  about 
249 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

the  farming.  Of  course  he  spent  a  great 
deal  of  money  on  it,  but  the  spending  gave 
him  pleasure,  and  if  he  had  taken  to  horse- 
racing  or  gambling,  or  something  worse, 
as  so  many  men  do,  I  would  have  had  real 
cause  to  complain.  I  am  older  now,  and  I 
see  that  married  men  when  they  get  to  a 
certain  age  are  inclined  to  fret  and  chafe, 
and  perhaps  bolt,  if  they  are  tethered  with 
too  short  a  rope.  I  see,  too,  that  I  didn't 
do  Philip  any  good  by  trying  to  keep  him 
from  farming.  Now,  dear  Marion,  I  have 
something  to  write  that  will  not  offend  you, 
I  hope.  I  tried  to  say  it  last  week,  but  I 
couldn't  quite  get  my  courage  up,  for  you 
have  a  little  bit  of  a  temper,  dear,  and  I  knew 
that  if  I  saw  your  eyes  flash  I  would  get 
flustered  and  make  a  bungle  of  it.  You 
know  I  always  supposed  it  was  Henry's 
own  determination  that  kept  him  from  buy 
ing  any  implements  but  a  spade,  a  rake  and 
a  hoe,  but  from  something  Paul  said  I  have 
surmised  that  it  was  because  you  made  him 
promise  not  to.  Perhaps,  at  the  time,  that 
was  a  wise  precaution,  but  you  are  differ 
ently  situated  now,  and  you  should  modify 
250 


The  Fairy  Well 

your  views.  Of  course  Henry  will  do  ex 
actly  as  you  say,  and  never  let  you  see  what 
it  costs  him,  and  although  I  admire  his  com 
mon  sense  about  saving  money,  I  admire 
him  much  more  for  his  unselfish,  uncom 
plaining  devotion  to  your  ideas.  I  believe 
if  he  thought  it  would  give  you  any  pleasure 
he  would  go  and  cut  off  his  little  finger  on 
the  chopping  block  in  the  woodshed.  But 
I  would  advise  you  strongly,  Marion  (since 
you  need  have  no  fear  for  the  future),  to  let 
him  spend  all  the  money  he  wishes  on  the 
farm,  and  to  keep  all  sorts  of  fancy  stock. 
Let  him  go  ahead  for  a  year  at  least  and 
take  all  the  pleasure  he  can  out  of  it,  and 
you'll  find  it  will  pay  in  the  end.  There's 
just  one  thing  I  would  shut  down  on,  if  I 
were  you  (though  I  don't  think  it's  likely 
he'd  want  to  do  it,  but  you  never  can  tell 
how  far  they  may  go  if  they  once  get 
started),  that  is,  underdraining.  I  don't 
know  anything  about  overdrains,  but  I  do 
know  that  underdrains  are  simply  ruinous, 
and  if  you  keep  Henry  from  underdraining 
I  don't  believe  he  can  waste  much  money. 
Now,  dear  Marion,  write  soon  and  let  your 

251 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

poor  old  aunt  know  that  you  are  not 
offended  by  this  suggestion." 

Marion  stopped  reading,  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands  and  laughed  hysterically, 
exclaiming,  "  Oh,  how  funny !  You  poor, 
— poor,  down-trodden  creature !  " 

I  was  dumb  with  astonishment  at  first, — 
there  was  much  food  for  reflection  in  the 
letter, — but  what  surprised  me  most  was  the 
absence  of  any  allusion  to  Mr.  Fairman's 
buying  the  farm.  "  Is  that  all?  "  I  asked, 
with  breathless  incredulity. 

It  wasn't.  Marion  found  another  sheet 
marked,  "  Later." 

"  Joseph  came  in  a  few  minutes  ago  and 
handed  me  one  of  those  telegrams  to  read. 
Imagine  my  astonishment  at  finding  he  has 
bought  Waydean  for  Henry !  It  seems 
that  on  our  wedding-day  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  do  this,  and  never  said  a  word  to 
me  about  it.  If  he  had  I  certainly  would 
have  said  he  was  too  late.  How  fortunate, 
after  all,  that  your  bargain  with  Peter  fell 
through.  I  think  Joseph  is  more  pleased 
to  be  able  to  make  Henry  a  present  of  Way- 
252 


The  Fairy  Well 

dean  than  about  anything  that  has  happened 
since  we  saw  you  last,  and  I  can't  tell  you 
how  glad  I  am.  You  see,  Marion,  Henry 
can  go  ahead  with  perfect  confidence." 


253 


A  PASTORAL  CALL 

FOR  nearly  two  years  I  had  rigidly  ad 
hered  to  Marion's  scheme  of  inex 
pensive  farming,  with  the  result  that  we 
refrained  from  spending  money  at  a  rate 
that  should  have  enabled  us  to  amass  a 
fortune  in  course  of  time.  The  rent  which 
I  paid  to  Peter  practically  included  a 
bonus  to  him  for  working  his  own  land,  but 
this  was  a  mere  trifle  to  the  outlay  that 
would  have  been  necessary  had  I  essayed 
the  role  of  an  ordinary  amateur  farmer. 
Thus,  from  the  standpoint  of  economy  I  can 
cheerfully  testify  that  the  plan  was  a  success, 
but  at  times  its  chafing  restrictions  irritated 
me  almost  to  the  point  of  rebellion,  as  when 
I  heard  Abner  Davis  insinuate  that  I  was 
not  a  regular  farmer.  This  feeling,  how 
ever,  gradually  wore  away,  as  I  learned  that 
Marion's  plan  not  only  meant  a  pecuniary 
254 


A  Pastoral  Call 

saving,  but  also  a  freedom  from  many  re 
sponsibilities  and  worries  inseparable  from 
the  lot  of  the  ordinary  farmer.  At  all  times 
I  could  rise  superior  to  the  devastations  of 
potato-bugs  and  cut-worms,  early  and  late 
frosts,  hog-cholera,  hail-storms,  floods, 
droughts,  and  mortgage  interest.  It  was 
this  consideration  that  made  me  hesitate  to 
adopt  Aunt  Sophy's  suggestion  that  I 
should  indulge  myself  by  launching  forth 
in  the  fatuous  career  of  the  irregular  farmer 
who  spends  his  fortune  in  the  delightful 
pursuit  of  a  phantom  profit,  but  when  I  be 
gan  to  fully  realize  that  we  owned  Way- 
dean  and  that  I  had  five  thousand  dollars  in 
the  bank,  the  prospect  of  farming  on  a 
larger  scale  became  distinctly  alluring.  At 
this  point  I  suddenly  made  the  astounding 
discovery  that  Marion  had  entered  upon  a 
policy  of  absolute  non-interference  in  the 
matter.  Not  only  did  she  neglect  to  point 
out  the  proper  course  for  me  to  take,  but 
she  also  declined  to  express  an  opinion  or 
make  a  comment  upon  anything  even  re 
motely  connected  with  farming  operations; 
nor  would  she  explain  her  reasons  for  this 
255 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

extraordinary  behavior,  or  admit  that  she 
had  reasons.  I  could  only  guess  that  it  was 
Aunt  Sophy's  letter  which  had  influenced 
her  to  this  complete  inaction  and  apparent 
indifference  to  my  agricultural  operations. 
It  was  then  that  I  became  aware  how 
dependent  I  was  upon  my  wife's  judgment 
and  how  much  I  distrusted  my  own.  Like 
a  caged  bird  unwittingly  made  free,  I  felt 
bewildered  and  forsaken  and  vainly  tried  to 
be  restored  to  favor.  I  am  amenable  to 
reason,  to  flattery,  or  to  anything  else  that 
helps  to  make  life  pleasant  and  more  worth 
living;  not  so  with  Marion.  It  is  hopeless 
to  attempt  to  change  her  purpose  by  ex 
ternal  influences,  and  I  soon  gave  up  the 
thankless  task  of  trying  to  extract  an 
opinion  from  her  that  she  was  bound  to 
keep  to  herself.  It  was  while  I  was  still  in  a 
state  of  mental  bewilderment  over  her  be 
havior  that  Peter  Waydean  came  forward 
with  what  appeared  to  be  a  most  reasonable 
proposition.  While  I  had  been  puzzling 
over  what  I  should  do  with  the  farm,  it 
appeared  that  he,  by  a  curious  coincidence, 
was  in  a  similar  state  of  indecision  about 
256 


A  Pastoral  Call 

what  he  should  do  without  it.  He  hadn't 
realized,  he  said,  when  he  sold  the  place  to 
Mr.  Fairman,  how  attached  he  was  to  the 
old  homestead  or  how  bereft  of  occupation 
he  would  feel  when  he  no  longer  cultivated 
the  land  that  he  had  cropped  for  half  a  cen 
tury.  He  could  scarcely  make  me  under 
stand  how  gratified  he  was  that  I,  and  not  a 
stranger,  was  now  the  owner;  indeed,  the 
idea  had  occurred  to  him  that,  considering 
our  friendly  relations  as  neighbors,  we 
might  make  an  arrangement,  to  our  mutual 
advantage — ahem  ! — to  work  the  land  on 
shares. 

I  had  but  a  vague  idea  of  what  working 
land  on  shares  meant,  and  I  had  to  ask  him 
to  explain  the  term.  Instead  of  giving  me 
a  precise  definition,  he  began  by  pointing 
out  that  if  I  worked  the  farm  myself  I  would 
have  the  expense  of  keeping  a  hired  man 
all  the  year  round,  as  well  as  extra  hands 
in  the  busy  season ;  I  would  have  a  con 
tinued  outlay  for  farm-stock,  implements, 
feed  and  sundries.  On  the  other  hand,  i£ 
we  worked  the  land  on  shares,  he  would  be 
willing  to  do  all  the  work  himself  and  pro- 
257 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

vide  everything  necessary,  if  I  were  willing 
to  pay  him  the  three  hundred  dollars  that  it 
would  cost  me  to  keep  a  hired  man. 

"And  the  produce?"  I  asked  warily, 
though  I  felt  inclined  to  agree  on  the  spot. 

Peter  rubbed  his  chin  thoughtfully  before 
he  spoke.  "  I  was  going  to  say  that  we 
might  share  and  share  alike,  but  I'm  ready 
to  do  more  than  that,"  with  an  expansive 
smile.  "  You  see,  as  I  told  you  once  be 
fore,  taking  one  year  with  another,  farm 
ing  don't  pay,  and  you  might  have  to  share 
two  years'  losses  against  one  year's  profits." 
He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  I  nodded 
knowingly.  "  Now,"  he  continued,  "  I'll 
take  the  hull  darned  crop  myself,  and  if  it 
don't  pay  expenses  you  don't  lose,  but  if 
there  is  any  profit  once  in  a  while,  I'll  have 
something  for  horse  and  cow  feed." 

This  offer  sounded  so  generous  that  I 
almost  succumbed ;  indeed,  I  would  have 
agreed  at  once  but  for  the  caution  inspired 
by  my  previous  dealings  with  him,  and  the 
remembrance  that  Marion  counted  it  one  of 
my  failings  that  my  first  impulse  was  always 
to  agree  with  any  plausible  proposition. 
258 


A  Pastoral  Call 

This  thought  gave  me  moral  courage 
enough  to  withhold  my  consent  until  I  had 
time  to  talk  it  over  with  my  wife. 

Now  when  I  eagerly  began  to  explain  the 
advantages  of  working  the  land  on  shares  I 
was  so  full  of  the  subject  that  I  forgot  tem 
porarily  that  Marion  was  leaving  me  to  my 
own  devices,  nor  did  I  remember  till  I 
paused  for  her  opinion,  and  heard  the  in 
teresting  comment  that  I'd  better  get  the 
whitewash  mixed  up  so  that  we  could  do 
the  kitchen  right  after  dinner. 

I  mixed  the  whitewash  with  fierce  energy. 
After  dinner  I  applied  it  with  a  concentrated 
vigor  that,  properly  distributed,  would  have 
whitened  the  White  House.  As  I  worked, 
I  ruminated  bitterly  upon  Marion's  aggra 
vating  reserve,  doubly  annoying  in  that  I 
had  an  instinct  that  she  saw  a  fatal  flaw  in 
the  plan  which  was  not  apparent  to  me. 
When  I  finished  the  walls  and  ceiling  of  the 
kitchen  I  found  that  I  had  incidentally 
whitened  the  stove,  the  floor  and  myself. 

To  my  surprise,  Marion  made  no  com 
ment  on  this  as  she  prepared  to  scrub  the 
floor,  her  features  expressing  calm  content, 
259 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

with  perhaps  a  suggestion  of  scornful 
amusement  that  was  not  definite  enough  to 
justify  me  in  accusing  her  of  implying  that 
I  hadn't  done  the  work  neatly.  She  had 
just  dipped  her  scrubbing  brush  into  the 
pail  of  water,  and  I  was  in  the  act  of  remov 
ing  my  bespattered  overalls,  when  the  front 
door-bell  rang.  It  was  such  an  unusual 
occurrence  at  Waydean  for  anyone  to  come 
to  the  front  door  that  the  sound  of  the  bell 
at  this  juncture  created  a  commotion. 
Neither  of  us  was  presentable,  but  Marion 
seized  a  towel  and  rubbed  some  splatches  of 
lime  off  my  face,  hurried  me  into  an  old 
coat  and  declared  I  must  go.  I  had  learned 
previously  that  on  any  special  occasion  it  is 
always  the  man  who  must  go,  so  I  did  not 
protest.  I  even  went  willingly,  for  the  bell 
rang  a  second  time  with  a  portentous  re 
verberation  that  thrilled  me  with  expect 
ancy  that  something  was  about  to  happen, 
and  I  was  in  the  mood  to  enjoy  something 
happening.  As  I  glanced  at  the  mirror  in 
the  hall  I  was  startled  to  see  that  my  hair 
and  beard  were  powdered  a  delicate  gray 
with  the  lime,  and  that  the  lines  in  my  face 
260 


A  Pastoral  Call 

looked  like  the  deep  seams  of  old  age,  but 
as  this  couldn't  be  helped  I  opened  the  door 
with  my  usual  air  of  inquiring  dignity. 

"  How  are  you,  Mr.  Waydean  ? "  de 
manded  a  hearty  voice,  and  a  large,  bearded, 
black-clothed,  silk-hatted  man  grasped  my 
hand  with  a  fervent  pressure. 

I  am  singularly  open  to  sympathy,  and 
at  that  particular  time  I  would  have  wel 
comed  the  benediction  of  a  wayside  beggar, 
so  I  returned  the  hearty  hand-clasp  and  re 
plied  that  I  was  from  fair  to  middling, 
warmly  inviting  him  to  walk  into  the  parlor. 
It  did  not  occur  to  me  until  he  spread  his 
coat  tails  and  inverted  his  hat  on  the  floor 
that  he  looked  as  if  he  might  be  an  ex- 
clerical  insurance  or  book  agent,  and  I  was 
rather  more  relieved  than  impressed  when 
he  announced  that  he  was  the  new  pastor 
of  the  only  church  in  the  neighborhood.  I 
attempted  to  apologize  for  my  disordered 
appearance  and  to  explain  that  I  was  not  a 
church-goer,  also  that  Waydean  was  not 
my  name,  but  that  of  the  place. 

"  Not  one  word,  Mr.  Waydean,"  he  in 
terrupted,  his  deep  voice  drowning  my 
261 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

courteous  utterance.  "  You  wouldn't  think 
so,  perhaps,  but  I  was  brought  up  on  a  farm, 
and  I  have  learned  that  clothes  do  not  make 
a  man.  Would  you  be  a  different  person, 
let  me  ask,  were  you  clothed  in  sheepskins 
or  purple  and  fine  linen  ?  " 

"  I  never  tried  either  of  those  costumes," 
I  answered,  "  but  if  you  saw  me  in  my  ordi 
nary  clothes  you  wouldn't  take  me  for  a 
farmer." 

"  Come  now,  Mr.  Waydean,"  he  urged, 
tapping  my  knee  insistently ;  "  would  you 
or  would  you  not  be  the  same  man?  A 
straight  answer,  if  you  please — no  hedg 
ing." 

"  Well,"  I  admitted,  "  I  suppose  I  would 
be  the  same  man,  but  I'd  look  mighty  dif 
ferent." 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  contemplat 
ing  me  with  a  satisfied  smile.  "  I  am 
pleased  to  see  that  you  are  willing  to  grant 
that  you  are  in  error,"  he  said,  stroking  his 
beard ;  "  it's  always  better  to  tell  the  truth 
at  first  than  to  wait  until  you  are  obliged  to 
do  so.  But  this,  of  course,  is  not  what  I 
called  to  say,  and  I  must  come  to  the  point. 
262 


A  Pastoral  Call 

I've  preached  in  this  church  two  Sabbaths, 
and  you  have  not  been  present.  May  I  ask 
you  why  ?  " 

"  Well  I— I'm  not  much  in  the  habit  of 
going  to  church.  I " 

"  Hedging  again,  Mr.  Waydean,"  he  said, 
holding  up  a  warning  forefinger.  "  I  must 
insist  upon  your  being  perfectly  frank.  I 
have  reason  to  suppose  you  have  stayed 
away  on  account  of  this  petty  disagreement 
with  Brother  Bunce  and  Brother  Lemon. 
Is  not  that  the  fact  ?  " 

Alas,  I  could  not  say !  Had  I  known  the 
particulars  of  the  petty  disagreement  he 
mentioned  I  might  have  hazarded  an  ad 
mission  that  he  was  correct  in  his  surmise, 
for  I  find  it  easier  to  acknowledge  that  a 
person  is  right  in  a  matter  of  no  interest  to 
me  than  think  up  arguments  on  the  other 
side.  I  felt  like  a  small  boy  who  is  called 
upon  to  decide  instantly  whether  his  pun 
ishment  will  be  mitigated  or  increased  if 
he  confesses  to  a  deed  of  which  he  is  both 
innocent  and  ignorant.  I  looked  in  every 
direction  but  at  my  accuser,  and  remained 
silent. 

263 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

"  Mr.  Waydean,"  he  went  on,  with  a  note 
of  sympathetic  compassion  that  would  have 
softened  my  heart  had  I  been  a  sinner,  "  I 
find  it  is  better  to  begin  work  in  a  new 
sphere  by  smoothing  out  anything  that  has 
caused  discord,  so  I  have  come  to  you  to 
day  as  a  peacemaker  to  speak  about  your 
demeanor  in  church,  which,  I  understand, 
has  been  the  primary  cause  of  this  trouble." 

"  My  demeanor  in  church?  "  I  cried,  with 
indignant  incredulity. 

"  Not  a  word,  if  you  please,  until  I  have 
stated  the  case  in  full,  as  I  understand  it; 
then  I  shall  listen  to  your  explanation.  You 
are  in  the  habit  of  sleeping  in  church, 
and " 

Again  I  struggled  to  disclaim  the  habit 
of  church-going.  Again  his  masterful  voice 
drowned  my  protest. 

"  I  can  assure  you,  Mr.  Waydean,  that 
we  all  have  habits  of  which  we  are  totally 
unconscious.  I,  for  instance,  invariably 
moisten  my  thumb  in  turning  the  leaves  of 
the  pulpit  Bible,  and  I  am  inclined  to  dis 
believe  my  wife  when  she  mentions  the 
matter  afterwards.  Now,  I  want  you  to 
264 


A  Pastoral  Call 

take  my  word  for  it  that  you  have  the  habit 
I  am  about  to  speak  of,  even  though  you 
may  think  you  haven't." 

I  remembered  with  an  effort  that  my 
name  was  Peter  Waydean ;  at  the  same  time 
I  was  thrilled  by  a  sudden  conviction  that, 
as  resistance  seemed  useless,  a  delightful 
situation  would  result  if  I  consented  to  play 
the  part  that  was  being  thrust  upon  me  so 
vigorously.  There  was  no  sound  of  scrub 
bing  from  the  kitchen,  and  I  was  positive 
that  Marion  had  left  her  work  to  listen  to 
the  conversation.  This  consideration  gave 
zest  to  the  idea,  for  things  seemed  to  have 
been  providentially  arranged  so  that  Marion 
might  remain  in  the  background,  wrathfully 
powerless  to  interfere  in  what  had  every 
appearance  of  proving  to  be  a  most  enter 
taining  masquerade. 

"  Mr.  Hughes,  I'll  try,"  I  said  meekly. 

"  Well  then,  I  will  say  frankly  that  I  think 
it  excusable  if  you  occasionally  fall  asleep 
during  the  sermon  on  a  warm  day,  con 
sidering  that  you  have  but  one  day's  rest  in 
the  week  from  most  arduous  manual  labor ; 
but,  it  happens,  your  pew  is  between 
265 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

Brother  Bunce's  and  Brother  Lemon's,  and 
they,  too,  are  sometimes  overcome  by 
somnolency.  Don't  be  offended  if  I  put  the 
matter  plainly, — they  both  complain  that 
you  have  the  habit  of  going  to  sleep 
and " 

"  But  what  right  have  they  to  complain 
of  my  going  to  sleep,  when  they " 

"  There, — there ! — be  calm,  and  I'll  ex 
plain.  Remember,  they  are  both  liberal 
givers  and  pillars  of  the  church,  and  we 
must  do  nothing  to  alienate  them ;  indeed, 
if  we  can  do  anything  to  make  them  more 
comfortable  it  is  our  duty  to  do  so.  Now 
they  do  not  complain  of  your  going  to  sleep, 
but  they  protest  against  having  their  rest 
disturbed  by — ahem  ! — your — your  snor 
ing." 

"My  snoring!"  I  exclaimed  wrathfully. 
"  Let  me  inform  you,  sir,  I  never  snore. 
I — "  A  choking  guttural  sound  from  the 
dining-room,  followed  by  an  artificial  femi 
nine  cough,  arrested  my  denial.  I  gulped 
twice,  then  I  went  on  humbly :  "  I  should 
say,  rather,  that  I  was  not  aware  I  snored." 

"  Well  put,  Mr.  Waydean,"  said  my  men- 
366 


A  Pastoral  Call 

tor  approvingly.  "  I  remember  the  first 
time  my  wife  told  me  I  snored  I  was  quite 
irritated,  so  I  know  how  you  feel.  But  I 
have  investigated  this  matter  thoroughly 
before  coming  to  you,  and  I  find  the  opinion 
is  universal  that  you  are  in  fault." 

"  Well,  then,  what  are  you  going  to  do 
about  it?  If  I'm  not  wanted  in  the  church 
I'm  willing  to  stay  away." 

"  No,  no, — my  dear  sir,  I  will  not  hear  of 
such  a  thing.  I  am  determined  that  no  one 
shall  leave  the  church  during  my  pastorate. 
I  would  suggest,  however,  that  you  might 
change  your  pew  to  one  at  the  rear  of  the 
building  under  the  gallery.  You  would  be 
more  comfortable  there,  and  Bunce  and 
Lemon  would  be  out  of  range,  so  to 
speak." 

"Never,"  I  protested  firmly.  "I  shall 
either  keep  my  pew  at  the  front,  or  leave  the 
church." 

"  You  will  listen  to  reason,  Mr.  Way- 
dean,"  he  insisted,  with  confident  decision. 
"  I  was  told  that  you  were  obstinate,  and 
that  I  might  as  well  leave  you  alone,  but  I 
want  you  to  set  a  good  example  to  your 
267 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

neighbors  and  show  them  you  are  a  man  of 
sense.  May  I — ah — ask  you  to  call  in  Mrs. 
Waydean,  if  she  is  at  home  ?  " 

It  was  a  move  that  took  me  unawares ;  I 
almost  broke  out  into  a  cold  sweat.  There 
was  a  sudden  dull  thump  in  the  dining-room 
that  sounded  as  if  the  cat  had  jumped  down 
from  the  top  of  the  dresser  to  the  floor,  and 
I  knew  that  Marion  in  her  dismay  had 
dropped  into  a  chair.  Somehow  this  sound 
was  inspiriting.  She  could  not  get  upstairs 
without  being  seen  by  our  visitor,  and  in 
her  old  skirt  she  was  as  impotent  to  inter 
rupt  any  statement  I  chose  to  make  as  if  she 
were  bound  and  gagged.  Therefore,  with 
inward  relish  and  outward  regret,  I  an 
swered  that  my  wife  had  been  so  unfortu 
nate  as  to  twist  her  ankle  and  had  been 
confined  to  her  bed  for  two  days. 

He  only  paused  to  express  the  proper 
condolences  before  returning  to  the  point ; 
leaning  forward  confidentially,  he  lowered 
his  voice.  "  The  fact  is,  Mr.  Waydean,  I 
sympathize  with  your  stand  in  the  matter, 
but  we  must  all  make  sacrifices  for  the  good 
of  the  community.  You  must  consider  that 
268 


A  Pastoral  Call 

these  men  give  liberally,  and  how,  may  I 
ask,  could  the  revenue  be  made  up  if  they 
left  the  church  ?  " 

More  was  implied  by  the  diplomatic  sug- 
gestiveness  of  his  tone  than  by  the  words. 
There  was  a  pause,  during  which  I  pursed 
up  my  lips,  half-closed  my  eyes,  and 
thoughtfully  rubbed  the  bristles  on  my 
chin.  "  Well,"  I  remarked  at  length,  in  a 
reflective  tone,  "  I  suppose  you  think  I 
might  do  a  little  better  ?  " 

;'  To  be  quite  frank,  I  think  you  might," 
he  responded.  "  It  is  a  delicate  matter  to 
mention,  but  you  have  the  reputation  of 
being  the  wealthiest  man  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  and — and " 

"  And  the  closest,"  I  added,  with  a  touch 
of  asperity.  "  To  be  quite  frank  with  you, 
Mr.  Hughes,  I  didn't  take  much  stock  in 
your  predecessor,  or  I  might  have  given 
more ;  but  now  I  may  perhaps  feel  differ 
ently.  You  make  Bunce  and  Lemon  at 
tend  to  their  own  beams,  and  I'll  tell  you 
what  I'll  do.  I'll—  Again  that  falsetto 
cough  from  the  next  room  checked  my  flow 
of  speech.  I  had  completely  forgotten 
269 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

Marion,  having  become  so  absorbed  in  my 
part. 

"  Well?  "  he  asked  expectantly. 

I  glanced  around  nervously  and  lowered 
my  voice  almost  to  a  whisper.  "  I'll  give  as 
much  cash  as  I  gave  before;  besides,  I'll 
give  half  my  crop." 

"  Half  your  crop !  "  he  exclaimed  in 
amazement. 

"  Half — my — crop,"  I  solemnly  asserted ; 
"  if  you  care  to  send  for  it.  Perhaps  you 
could  get  Bunce  and  Lemon  to  team  the 
produce  to  market?  " 

"  I'll  attend  to  that,"  he  responded  cheer 
fully.  "  I'll  get  up  a  bee,  and  lend  a  hand 
myself.  I  hope, — ho,  ho,  ho  ! — that  you 
will  have  a  large  crop.  What  do  you  pro 
pose  to  grow  next  year  ?  " 

"  Well,  I— I  haven't  quite  decided." 

"  Considering  that  I  have  a  half-interest, 
let  me  suggest  potatoes." 

"  Potatoes !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Why,  they're 
not  worth  digging  this  year — fifteen  cents  a 
bag!" 

The  minister  laughed.  "  Ninety-nine 
farmers  out  of  a  hundred  will  reason  in  the 
270 


A  Pastoral  Call 

same  way,"  he  said ;  "  then  the  crop  will  be 
short  and  the  prices  high.  Be  the  hun 
dredth  man,  and  plant  potatoes." 

I  thanked  him  for  the  advice,  which 
seemed  to  me  to  be  excellent.  He  rose  to 
go,  then  placed  his  hand  affectionately  on 
my  shoulder.  "  Keep  your  pew,"  he  said, 
"  and  leave  me  to  settle  with  Brothers 
Bunce  and  Lemon ;  but  if,  as  a  favor  to  me, 
you  could  keep  from — going  to  sleep ? " 

I  could  not  resist  the  urgent  friendliness 
of  his  appeal.  "  Mr.  Hughes,"  I  responded, 
"  I  can  promise  never  to  close  my  eyes  while 
listening  to  your  sermons ;  more  than  that, 
I'll  see  that  Bunce  and  Lemon  keep  awake 
also." 

His  eyes  twinkled  with  appreciative 
humor  as  he  thanked  me,  and  a  sudden  re 
morse  seized  me  for  taking  advantage  of 
his  insistent  belief  that  I  was  Peter  Way- 
dean.  I  might  have  yielded  to  my  inclina 
tion  to  confess,  had  not  Marion's  cough 
given  place  to  a  series  of  energetic  move 
ments  which  I  interpreted  as  a  threat  that 
she  was  preparing  to  enter  the  room  to  ex 
pose  my  duplicity.  As  a  usual  thing  I  am 
271 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

easily  intimidated,  but  sometimes  when  I 
get  beyond  my  depth  I  become  bold,  defiant, 
reckless.  I  had,  after  all,  done  no  wrong ;  I 
had  merely  accepted  a  situation  that  had 
been  forced  upon  me.  My  wife,  on  the  con 
trary,  had  behaved  with  heartless  indiffer 
ence.  After  training  me  to  depend  upon 
her  judgment,  after  teaching  me  to  obey  the 
dictates  of  her  conscience,  she  had,  without 
a  word  of  warning,  sympathy  or  apology, 
left  me  to  wrestle  alone  with  a  momentous 
question ;  left  me  to  be  tossed  about  like  a 
tailless  kite  or  a  rudderless  boat.  Well,  it 
was  my  plain  duty  to  teach  her  a  lesson,  and 
I  saw  the  way  to  point  a  pretty  moral  and 
at  the  same  time  settle  my  doubts  as  to  the 
wisdom  of  allowing  Peter  to  work  my  land 
on  shares.  Marion  had  refused  her  opinion 
on  this  matter ;  she  might  now  listen  while 
I  appealed  to  a  stranger. 

"  Mr.  Hughes,"  I  said  hurriedly,  as  he 
picked  up  his  hat,  "  sit  down  for  five  min 
utes  more — I  want  to  ask  your  advice." 

He  did  so,  and  briefly, — very  briefly,  for 
the  sounds  indicated  that  Marion  was  des 
perately  sponging  her  skirt  on  the  dining- 
272 


A  Pastoral  Call 

room  table, — I  sketched  a  proposition  sim 
ilar  to  Peter's.  "  Now,"  I  concluded,  "  do 
you  consider  that  a  fair  arrangement  for 
the  city  man  as  well  as  for  the  farmer  ?  " 

"  A  fair  arrangement !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"Where  is  the  city  man's  share?" 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  in  the  money  he  wouldn't 
spend  by  not  working  the  land  himself?  "  I 
asked  earnestly. 

He  laughed  in  joyous  abandonment. 
"  Really,  Mr.  Waydean,"  he  gasped,  "  you 
have  an  extraordinary  mind.  But  it  doesn't 
pay  to  juggle  with  one's  conscience,  even 
in  the  case  of  a  city  man — it  would  be  down 
right  extortion." 

Again  I  was  moved  by  his  geniality  to 
confess  that  I  was  not  the  man  I  seemed ; 
again  was  this  virtuous  resolve  crushed. 
Before  I  could  speak,  he  went  on :  "  You 
wouldn't  have  asked  me  this  if  your  con 
science  hadn't  troubled  you.  Three  hun 
dred  dollars  bonus  for  the  farmer — and  all 
the  produce !  "  Again  his  smile  broke  out 
afresh  as  he  looked  at  me  in  mild  reproof. 
"  Oh,  I  know  what  you're  thinking.  I,  too, 
thought  at  one  time  that  amateur  farmers 
273 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

were  designed  by  Providence  to  add  to  the 
prosperity  and  entertainment  of  legitimate 
cultivators  of  the  soil,  but — oh,  dear  me  ! — 
three  hun — ho,  ho,  ho  ! —  Why,  you'd  kill 
your  goose." 

"  Goose !  "  I  cried  fiercely.  "  Do  you 
mean  to  call  me  a  goose?  " 

"  No,  no, — I  was  going  to  say  you'd  kill 
your  goose " 

"  Don't  say  it,  then,"  I  adjured  him,  with 
bitter  resentment.  "  If  you  mention  any 
thing  oval  and  metallic  and  glittering,  I'll 
have  a — a  nervous  prostration.  Why  do 
men  of  your  profession  want  to  wreck  the 
nerves  of  your  listeners  by  firing  off  the 
most  obvious  remarks,  the  stalest  plati 
tudes,  the  most  hackneyed  metaphors? 
Why  can't  you  sometimes 'say  something 
unexpected?  I'd  go  to  church  if  I  could 
listen  to  sermons  in  which  I  didn't  always 
know  what  was  coming  next." 

It  was  his  turn  to  wince.  An  angry  flush 
mounted  to  his  cheeks,  and  he  positively 
glowered  at  me.  "  Permit  me  to  say,"  he 
thundered,  extending  his  right  arm  in  a 
pulpit  gesture,  "  that  I  wasn't  going  to 
274 


A  Pastoral  Call 

mention  the  gol  " — I  don't  know  what  he 
wasn't  going  to  mention,  for  I  clapped  my 
hands  over  my  ears  just  in  time  to  escape 
hearing,  because  I  felt  that  I  really  couldn't 
bear  a  certain  reference  that  he  seemed  bent 
upon  making.  The  next  words  that  reached 
me  were :  "  — was  about  to  say  that  if  you 
pluck  all  the  feathers  off  your  goose  out  of 
season  the  result  will  be  fatal.  Mr.  Way- 
dean,  you  are  behaving  in " 

"  Don't,"  I  implored—"  don't  Mr.  Way- 
dean  me  again.  I'm  not  old  Waydean. 
I'm— 

"You're  not— Peter  Waydean?"  he 
gasped. 

"  No,— I'm  not." 

"  I — I  was  told  this  was  the  Waydean 
homestead." 

"  It  is,"  I  said,  regaining  my  composure, 
"  but  he  doesn't  live  here." 

He  stared  at  me  blankly.     "  And  you?  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  only  the  city  man." 

He  picked  up  his  hat  and  moved  toward 
the  door.  "  Good-afternoon,"  he  said  frig 
idly. 

Remorse  for  what  was  past  and  despair 
275 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

for  what  was  to  come  gripped  me.  "  I'm 
sorry  for  the  mistake,"  I  said,  following 
him  to  the  door,  "  but  you  wouldn't  give 
me  a  chance  to  explain." 

Without  a  word  or  look  in  reply,  he 
walked  away,  selfishly  absorbed  in  his  own 
thoughts. 


276 


XV 

THE    HARVEST 

{SUPPOSE  the  law  of  retributive  pun 
ishment  is,  strictly  speaking,  a  just  one, 
but  I  feel  sure  there  is  such  a  thing  as  carry 
ing  it  too  far,  especially  when  it  is  applied 
without  regard  to  the  mitigating  circum 
stances  that  sometimes  prompt  a  usually 
tractable  man  to  kick  over  the  traces.  I 
think,  in  a  case  of  this  kind,  a  deeper  moral 
effect  may  be  obtained  by  the  application 
of  the  beautiful  theory  that  crime,  like 
virtue,  has  its  own  inevitable  reward, 
apart  from  any  extraneous  punishment 
that  the  human  intellect  can  devise.  Years 
before,  when  the  latter  philosophy  was 
expounded  to  me  by  Marion  during  a 
discussion  on  the  subject,  it  seemed  a 
mere  abstract  proposition  that  verged  on 
absurdity,  but  in  the  painful  moments 
that  elapsed  between  the  departure  of  the 
minister  and  my  hesitating  entrance  to 
277 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

the  dining-room  its  true  significance  burst 
upon  me  like  a  ray  of  sunshine.  I  would 
remind  Marion  of  her  convictions;  I 
would  tell  her  I  had  adopted  her  view ;  she 
would  refrain,  in  deference  to  her  own  un 
swerving  opinions,  to  add  to  the  mental  an 
guish  that  had  already  led  me  to  see  how 
unwise  it  was  to  give  way  to  evil  impulses. 

Therefore,  encouraged  by  this  thought,  I 
faced  my  wife  as  if  nothing  had  happened 
since  I  left  the  kitchen  to  answer  the  sum 
mons  of  the  .door-bell.  I  was  prepared  to 
find  her  indignant,  wrathful,  in  tears,  but  I 
did  not  expect  to  see  her  sitting  in  an  at 
titude  of  apathetic  despair,  dry-eyed  and 
speechless. 

"  Good  heavens,  Marion ! "  I  cried. 
"  What's  the  matter  ?  " 

It  was  some  time  before  I  could  get  her 
to  ans\ver ;  then  it  was  a  positive  relief  to 
see  her  lips  move  and  hear  her  say  faintly, 
"  You've — done  it — now." 

I  had  difficulty  in  finding  out  what  I  had 
done.  A  gleam  of  hope  thrilled  me  when  at 
last  she  revived  enough  to  attack  in  the 
open. 

278 


The  Harvest 

Then,  and  not  till  then,  did  I  develop  my 
strategic  lines  of  defence.  First,  I  pleaded 
justification;  second,  that  my  vivid  imag 
ination,  like  Paul's,  had  led  me  to  believe 
for  the  time  that  I  was  Peter ;  third,  that  I 
had  tried  in  vain  to  make  the  minister  un 
derstand  that  I  was  not  Peter;  fourth,  that 
my  desire  for  sympathy  and  companionship 
had  warped  my  judgment  and  caused  me  to 
innocently  yield  to  temptation;  fifth,  that  I 
could  not  see  that  I  had  done  wrong ;  sixth, 
that  the  burden  of  poignant  grief  for  my  con 
duct  was  more  than  I  could  bear ;  seventh, 
that  any  attempt  to  rub  it  in  would  harden 
my  heart  and  stifle  the  reproaches  of  my 
own  conscience;  eighth, — well,  to  the  final 
argument  upon  which  I  based  my  futile 
hopes  Marion  replied  that  her  own  attitude, 
born  of  the  humiliating  discovery  of  the 
kind  of  man  I  really  was,  might  well  be  con 
sidered  part  of  the  inevitable  consequences 
of  my  misdeeds,  and  that  if  she  had  ever 
given  me  cause  to  believe  that  she  thought 
differently  she  took  it  all  back. 

It  was  then,  with  my  guns  spiked,  that  I 
surrendered  unconditionally.  I  only  pleaded 
279 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

that  for  Paul's  sake — dear  little  Paul,  who, 
in  his  plays,  so  innocently  invented  fictions 
that  rivalled  Munchausen's  —  we  should 
gather  up  the  little  fragments  of  our  shat 
tered  happiness  and  piece  them  together 
with  calm  resignation.  I  was  about  to  sug 
gest  that  we  should  seek  consolation  in  a 
life  of  self-abnegation  by  trying  to  do  good 
to  others,  but,  seeing  that  Marion  was  ob 
viously  moved,  I  desisted.  I  am  proud  to 
say  I  know  how  far  to  go ;  I  am  prouder 
that  I  know  when  to  stop  and  keep  a  good 
thing  for  another  occasion. 

Marion  was  melted,  and  no  regular 
farmer  was  ever  more  grateful  to  see  the 
welcome  rain  after  a  scorching  drought 
than  I  was  to  see  her  tears.  She  was  melted, 
and  yet,  strange  to  say,  I  could  not  get  her 
to  assure  me  that  I  was  forgiven,  and  I  am 
so  constituted  that  I  cannot  be  content  with 
out  warm  assurances  to  that  effect. 

Months  went  by,  and  we  regained  our 
happiness  to  an  amazing  extent ;  indeed,  if 
Marion  had  not  still  refused  to  confirm  it, 
I  would  have  supposed  that  I  was  complete 
ly  forgiven,  for  she  sometimes  went  so  far 
280 


The  Harvest 

as  to  smile  in  recalling  my  conversation  with 
the  minister.  I  no  longer  worried  over  her 
refusal  to  express  an  opinion  about  the 
farm,  for  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  Peter,  and  to  grow  po 
tatoes,  and  potatoes,  and  yet  more  potatoes. 
I  had  a  strong  instinct  that  potatoes  would 
be  trumps.  Seed  was  cheap,  though  labor 
came  high.  Joe  Wrigley  was  the  only  avail 
able  man,  and  though  he  had  previously 
been  eager  to  work  for  me  at  a  dollar  and  a 
half  a  day,  his  terms  went  up  to  two  dollars 
when  I  tried  to  hire  him  for  the  season.  I 
thought  his  wholesale  price  should  be  lower 
than  the  retail  one,  but  I  had  to  agree  to  his 
terms.  Day  after  day  he  ploughed  and  har 
rowed  and  planted,  until  I  called  a  halt  on 
the  first  of  July  with  about  one-third  of  the 
farm  in  potatoes.  Throughout  the  summer 
I  bore  the  jocular  allusions  of  my  experi 
enced  neighbors  to  the  potato  farm,  replying 
only  with  a  shrewd  and  complacent  smile; 
later,  I  was  flattered  to  notice  that  knowing 
glances  of  amusement  were  conspicuously 
absent  when  I  entered  the  post-office  at  mail 
time,  and  that  my  casual  remarks  were 
281 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

treated  with  grave  consideration.  Later 
still,  when  the  price  went  up  to  a  dollar  and  a 
half  a  bag,  and  the  prospect  that  I  would 
have  a  large  crop  became  a  certainty,  I  was 
able  to  indulge  in  exultant  calculations  of 
my  probable  profits.  These  delightful  an 
ticipations  were  slightly  marred  by  Marion's 
persistent  lack  of  enthusiasm,  and  the  fact 
that  when  I  asked  her  if  she  could  ever  for 
give  me  she  always  replied  that  she  hoped 
to  be  able  to  before  winter.  There  was 
something  so  pointed  and  yet  elusive  in  this 
remark  that  I  could  not  fathom  her  mean 
ing,  and  it  was  not  until  I  noticed  that  when 
ever  I  mentioned  potatoes  a  peculiar  tight 
expression  appeared  about  her  mouth  that 
I  could  guess  she  was  reserving  her  forgive 
ness  until  my  promise  was  redeemed. 

One  day  in  the  beginning  of  October  I 
wrote  a  brief  note  to  the  minister.  Now  I 
had  never  seriously  considered  the  possi 
bility  of  ignoring  the  promise  I  had  made 
during  my  lapse  of  identity,  but  I  will  con 
fess  that  it  was  with  a  pang  I  prepared  to 
redeem  it,  for  I  loved  every  one  of  those 
conical  heaps  that  dotted  my  fields,  with  a 
282 


The  Harvest 

passionate  first  love  that  I  knew  I  could 
never  feel  again.  Indeed,  if  I  could  have 
preserved  them  from  decay,  I  would  rather 
have  left  the  pyramids  where  they  stood,  as 
a  lasting  monument  to  the  genius  of  the  city 
man  who  raised  more  than  two  thousand 
dollars  worth  of  potatoes  at  a  cost  of  less 
than  one  thousand,  but  with  iron  resolution 
I  determined  to  keep  to  the  letter  of  my 
promise.  Of  course,  I  might  have  done  so 
in  a  private  and  incidental  manner,  but  I 
frankly  admit  that  I  believe  if  a  man  chooses 
to  be  noble  and  generous  he  ought  to  be  so 
in  a  manner  that  gives  him  the  most  enjoy 
ment  and  furnishes  the  most  telling  example 
to  others. 

On  the  morning  of  the  twenty-first  of 
October  the  Fairmans  arrived  to  spend  with 
us  the  first  anniversary  of  their  wedding,  and 
not  a  small  part  of  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
them  again  was,  to  me,  the  delighted  ad 
miration  they  expressed  on  making  a  tour 
of  the  pyramids.  Aunt  Sophy  was  so  ex 
uberant  over  my  success,  and  her  husband 
so  frankly  astonished  when  he  rapidly  cal- 
283 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

culated  the  value  of  the  crop  in  dollars  and 
cents,  that  I  had  much  difficulty  in  retaining 
my  usual  modest  and  unassuming  manner. 
Even  Marion,  despite  a  certain  inflexible  set 
to  her  mouth  that  I  detected  under  her  com 
pany  expression,  couldn't  help  looking  re 
gretfully  pleased. 

We  had  a  most  enjoyable  dinner,  sitting 
so  long  over  the  table  that  Paul  excused 
himself  and  went  out  to  play,  but  it  was  only 
a  short  time  until  he  came  running  back 
with  the  petrifying  news  that  there  was  a 
funeral  entering  the  gate.  There  was  a 
simultaneous  rush  to  the  front  windows,  and 
out  on  the  road  we  all  saw  a  long  line  of 
democrats  beginning  to  move  slowly 
through  our  gate.  Between  the  trees,  at  the 
head  of  the  procession,  we  caught  fleeting 
glimpses  of  a  professional  silk  hat  and  a  suit 
of  black  clothes. 

"  Henry!"    cried    Marion,    with    a    lit 
tle   shriek.    "  You   wouldn't  —  let  them  — 
bury ?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  If  it's  a  Waydean 
— and  the  custom — 

"  Henry!  "  shrieked  Aunt  Sophy,  clasping 
Marion  in  her  arms. 

284 


The  Harvest 

"  Really,"  began  Mr.  Fairman,  "  I— I—" 

"  They've  stopped  in  the  yard,"  yelled 
Paul,  putting  his  head  in  the  doorway. 

I  headed  the  rush  to  the  back  window, 
then  one  more  rush  brought  us  all  into  the 
yard,  Mr.  Fairman  in  the  rear,  supporting 
the  ladies,  while  Paul,  who  revels  in  sudden 
excitement,  skipped  about  us  in  glee.  The 
driver  of  the  first  wagon  was  Peter  Way- 
dean  ;  the  professional  person  descending 
with  his  back  to  us  was  the  Rev.  Daniel 
Hughes.  He  came  forward  with  a  genial 
smile  and  greeted  me  warmly. 

"  Mr.  Carton,"  he  said,  "  we  have  come  to 
take  advantage  of " 

My  arm  was  gripped  from  behind.  "  Pay 
him  to  take  it  away — at  once,"  whispered 
Aunt  Sophy  in  my  ear,  with  fierce  energy, 
pressing  her  purse  into  my  hand. 

There  was  a  sudden  silence;  the  dramatic 
moment  had  arrived.  I  stepped  back  and 
courteously  introduced  Mr.  Hughes  to 
Aunt  Sophy,  to  Marion,  to  Mr.  Fairman. 
In  a  few  simple  and  carefully  chosen  words 
I  explained  that  Mr.  Hughes  and  my  neigh 
bors  had  come  at  my  request  to  take  one- 
285 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 

half  of  my  crop  for  the  benefit  of  the  church. 
Then  the  minister  made  a  most  handsome 
acknowledgment,  and  I  tried  to  look  dep 
recating.  There  was  rapt  attention  on  the 
part  of  the  listeners,  the  men  on  the  wagons 
being  visibly  impressed,  those  at  the  rear 
craning  their  necks  to  get  a  better  view  of 
the  tableau.  Aunt  Sophy  beamed  gratifica 
tion  ;  her  husband  sighed  regretfully,  as  if 
he  thought  the  contribution  rather  large. 
And  in  Marion's  eyes  I  read  the  most 
charming  and  complete  forgiveness  that 
could  fall  to  the  lot  of  an  erring  husband ; 
indeed,  they  were  brimming  with  such  per 
fect  trust  and  confidence  in  my  innate  no 
bility  of  character  that  I  instantly  resolved 
to  become  even  more  worthy  of  her  esteem. 

We  watched  the  long  line  of  wagons  pass 
through  the  barnyard  and  round  the  end  of 
the  barn  on  the  way  to  the  back  fields,  and 
as  I  stood  slightly  in  advance  of  the  others 
I  heard  Mr.  Fairman  wonder  in  a  low  tone 
if  I  proposed  to  run  for  the  legislature. 

"  Just  like  a  thing  your  Uncle  Philip 
would  have  done !  "  murmured  Aunt  Sophy 
to  Marion. 

286 


The  Harvest 

A  fleeting  spasm  crossed  Mr.  Fairman's 
face,  then  his  calm  serenity  returned.  I 
fancy  that  Uncle  Philip  had  better  be 
dropped,  or  Aunt  Sophy's  husband's  admir 
ation  for  me  may  lapse. 

On  the  last  wagon  rode  Abner  Davis.  He 
returned  my  salute  with  respectful  so 
lemnity,  and  I  could  scarcely  repress  a  smile 
of  triumph  as  I  recalled  his  derisive  remark 
that  I  was  not  a  regular  farmer.  Paul,  some 
latent  boyish  instinct  stirring  within  him, 
ran  after  the  wagon  and  clung  to  the  tail 
board,  an  unheard  of  feat  for  him. 

"  I  wonder  what  kind  of  a  farmer  Abner 
Davis  will  call  you  now,"  said  Marion,  voic 
ing  my  complacent  pride. 

At  that  moment  loud  guffaws,  Abner's 
unmistakable  laugh  and  his  companion's, 
reached  us  from  the  wagon  that  had  rounded 
the  barn,  and  Paul  came  dashing  back, 
breathless. 

"Father/'  he  called  out,  gleefully,  "I 
heard  him  say  that  any  man  who  would  give 
half  of  such  a  fine  crop  to " 

"  To  what  ?  "  I  asked,  with  eager  interest 
as  Paul  stopped  for  breath. 
287 


The  Abandoned  Farmer 


-to — the  church — when- 


"  Oh,  hurry,  Paul !  "  cried  his  mother. 
"  — potatoes    were    such    a    price — was 


We  waited  in  suspense,  various  flattering 
allusions  to  my  generous  gift  suggesting 
themselves  as  that  mischievous  boy  stopped 
to  spin  around  on  his  heels  and  laugh  in 
elfish  glee. 

"  Was  what?  "  we  cried  in  chorus. 

"  —  A  da-r-r-n  fool !  "  shrieked  Paul. 


288 


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